Claw's Idea Dump
by claw06
Summary: A collection of fics and fragments that I may or may not continue in the future. Includes: Fullmetal Alchemist, Teen Wolf, Naruto, Death Note, Walking Dead, Inuyasha, Boondock Saints, Vampire Knight, Fast&Furious, and any other fandom that catches my fancy. SLASH HET
1. Naruto: Glimpse of a shattered soul

**Summary: He'd come to terms with their deaths, all of them…at least that's what he liked to let himself believe. If that was true, however, why did he currently feel like he was balancing on the edge of another breakdown? Hopefully it didn't come to that, Tsunade-sama would kill him after the last time that happened.**

 **Sakumo, Kushina, and Team Minato find themselves pulled into the future as a result of a jutsu gone wrong, courtesy of Orochimaru. Can they handle this new future? Especially when it's discovered that they can't return to their own time? Starts After Chuunin Exam finals**

 **Warnings: Time-travel; Kakashi-centric; Mental Instability; Angst; Canon-typical violence: Ninja-typical darkness**

 **Pairing(s): Undecided**

 **Chapter One**

Sarutobi panted heavily as he glared at the smirking visage of his former student, watching from the corner of his eye as Kakashi and Jiraiya fought to free him from the snake sannin's barrier. All around them battle waged, foe and friend alike falling all under the whim of the monster in front of him.

"What's wrong, _sensei_?" Orochimaru sneered at him, not looking the least bit out of breath, but the Sandaime could see the sweat beading his forehead and the fatigue slowly seeping into his gaze. It made the paternal part of him want to reach out to his wayward boy and hug him, comfort him.

He refrained.

Instead he summoned Enma, who took one look at the situation and shook his head sadly. "No more second chances, Sarutobi." The ape king rumbled and the Hokage nodded, pain lancing through his heart.

Even after all he'd done, he couldn't help but love the younger man as his son. A father's love was unconditional, yet even he knew what must be done. He couldn't allow his village to suffer for the sake of his own heart.

"No more second chances."

A scream sounded to his left, the scent of burning flesh filled the air. Kakashi had pushed an oto nin against the barrier and held him there until it fried him. The Barrier cracked, something dark flashed in Orochimaru's eyes.

Sliding into a loose fighting stance, Sarutobi waited patiently. Orochimaru lunged at him. Another Oto nin was thrown against the barrier only to be caught and pressed there by Kakashi, whose entire expression was blank. He was regressing…however, the Kage couldn't allow himself to worry for the young jounin at the moment. Not when Orochimaru's blade was only moment's away from nicking him and infecting his blood with its deadly poison. He ducked and Enma slammed into the other who flew back to hit his own barrier and screamed.

What a horrible sound.

Orochimaru stumbled to his feet, his yukata falling in burnt tatters from his upper body as he glared at him with all the venom he could muster. He began flying through handseals a manic grin crossing his lips.

A loud crack sounded from the barrier, before it shattered completely.

"Edo Tensei!"

Kakashi tackled him just he went to complete the last seal, knocking the jutsu off course and a large puff of smoke appeared. Sarutobi stilled, having hoped the jutsu, especially that one, hadn't worked, his heart sinking and soaring all at once at the smoke cleared.

Orochimaru was gone, as were his shinobi, and Kakashi lay unconscious in his stead, but more importantly were the five shinobi that had appeared in front of him. Five very alive, very sound minded shinobi.

He slumped, watching as his student gathered the unconscious jounin in his arms, before he turned to the group of new comers.

"One moment, please." He turned his gaze to his village and straightened, projecting a proud front when really all he wanted to do was rest.

"Everyone, listen and listen well. You all fought very valiantly today, and because of that our village will persevere and see another day. We will not be broken as my former student hoped, no for he has unknowingly granted us a boon, one he will very much regret. Go home and rest, tomorrow begins a time of renewal and rebirth."

Everyone stood at attention, even the Chuunin hopefuls and Naruto. They didn't even notice the group behind him, thanks to Jiraya keeping the five far from the edge, it was no matter it would need to be addressed soon. For now, there were other things to be taken care of.

"Hai, Hokage-sama!" They all responded and soon he was left alone with the group.

"Hokage-sama," Kushina began hesitantly and he finally focused on them, noticing the worried and curious looks on all of their faces including _his._ "What's going on?"

' _How long has it been since I've seen you so innocent, Kakashi. How long as it been since I've seen you whole.'_

He didn't respond, choosing to silently observe them for a moment. Sakumo was in his late twenties, the same age he'd been that fateful day so long ago. He noticed the dark shadows in the man's eyes and knew he was from only days before that one. Team Minato were older than they should've been coming from Sakumo's time, telling him that in their time the man was already dead. He could see it in the Kakashi's cold eyes and stoic demeanor. In Minato's darker eyes and the sad glint in them. The new jounin jacket told him that they were from the day of the mission that had changed that for the boy. He also noticed that the boy hadn't noticed his father, who stood a little way behind the group, silent and vigilant.

"This is not the place for this discussion, Kushina-chan. Please henge yourselves and follow me."

"Sensei-" Jiraiya started, pulling his unconscious pseudo nephew closer when everyone turned their gazes on to him.

Sarutobi shook his head. "No, you need to be there too."

Something tortured crossed his student's face at seeing the faces of his dead student and the man who had been his brother in all but blood. He could only imagine how it would effect Kakashi, whose mental state wasn't the best and hadn't been for a very long time.

The toad sannin lowered his head, avoiding eye contact with the ghosts of his past and tightening his arms around the young man in his arms.

"Yes, sensei." He muttered before disappearing. Sarutobi stared after him then sighed, wondering why he couldn't have just remained in retirement.

 **TBC…**

Wednesday, January 6, 2016


	2. Naruto: Glimpse of a shattered soul pt2

**Chapter Two**

Sakumo frowned silently as he leaned against the wall of the Hokage's office, his dark eyes taking in everything from the team of genin standing with Minato, to Sarutobi's slumped shoulders and Jiraiya's refusal to so much as glance in their direction. He noticed that his son was a few years older than he had been when he'd last seen him just the day before.

Jiraiya shifted in agitation from when he was settling a slender silver-haired man on the couch in the office, keeping his back to them and Sarutobi sighed.

"Team Minato, Kushina-chan, what is the date?"

"June 19 10XX, Hokage-sama. What-" He raised a hand, cutting Minato off, before turning his gaze onto the silent man against the wall.

"And you, Sakumo-kun?"

Kakashi whirled around his eyes wide as they landed on his father, who straightened and moved to stand beside him.

"October 2, 10XX." He replied quietly and Kakashi flinched subtly while Jiraiya tensed.

A day before his death.

For a moment it was silent before Kushina let out a frustrated sound.

"What the hell is going on?" She exploded and Jiraiya turned and glared at them all venomously.

"All of you barring the Hatake brat are dead. You've been brought to the future thanks to a jutsu that Orochimaru botched."

Obito paled. "W-we're dead?"

"Not in your time you're not, however to us you've all been dead for years."

Minato stepped forward to placate his sensei, having never seen the man so agitated. However, before he could a soft groan sounded from the man on the couch.

* * *

It was the sound of yelling that awoke him at first. The voice was so familiar it almost hurt to hear it because he knew it couldn't be who he thought it was.

 **BloodScreamingPainAnguish**

" _Protect him…. protect Naruto."_

 _KyuubiFireBurningFlesh_

 _ **MakeitstopMakeitstopNoMorePlease**_

" _Tonight a great sacrifice was made. Hokage-sama and his wife are…dead."_

His heart clenches in his chest and he groans as the scents around him filter in through his senses. Each one is one he would recognize as well as he would his own…five of them are impossible.

Oranges, Dango, musk, cats. _**Obito.**_

 _Rocks crushing fragile bones. Regret, guilt, anguish. A broken half-smile._

" _My…my sharingan. Take it."_

 _ **I'msosorryPleaseforgivemeI'msorrySosorry.**_

Lilies, rain, ginger. _**Rin.**_

 _A fist of lightning through the heart. Failure, guilt._

" _No…No! Rin, don't go!"_

"' _m sorry, Kashi-kun."_

 _ **I'msorryMyfaultSoSorryIt'sallmyfault.**_

Fire, earth, musk, air. _**Sensei.**_

 _A peaceful smile on bloodless lips. The wailing of an infant in the air, the remains of a beast's destruction. Too Late. Hollow, numb._

 _ **You're all alone…**_

Fox, ramen, sea water. _**Kushina-neechan.**_

" _I'm sorry…she's gone."_

 _Emptiness._

 _ **Alone…**_

Lightning, power, home, safe. _**Tou-san.**_

 _A broken body slumped on a tatami mat, a disgraced tanto buried in its stomach._

" _Tou-san! Wake up! I'm sorry, please! Wake-up! Kai! It's okay, it's just a genjustu! It's just a test."_

 _Denial. Guilt._

His eyes shot open.

"Sh," Came a soothing voice, a heavy calloused hand coming to rest on his forehead as his eyes darted around the room. "Take it easy, gaki."

He pushed the older man away and sat up, inwardly frowning as he took in the five in front of him.

He'd come to terms with their deaths, all of them…at least that's what he liked to let himself believe. If that was true, however, why did he currently feel like he was balancing on the edge of another breakdown? Hopefully it didn't come to that, Tsunade-sama would kill him after the last time that happened. Instantly his mask slid on, and he eye-smiled, forcing his emotions down deep inside himself. He would deal with them later when he was alone.

"Maa, well doesn't _this_ look interesting?"

* * *

"Maa, well doesn't _this_ look interesting?"

Everyone stared at silver-haired man sitting beside Jiraiya incredulously taking in the all too familiar hair-style and face-mask.

They took in the jounin uniform clothing his slim frame, the slanted headband hiding his left eye from the world and the eye-smile he graced them with. Finally, Obito broke the silence.

"Bakakashi?"

The man merely smiled and pulled a book from his kunai pouch, while Kakashi, _their_ Kakashi scowled.

"Of course not, dumbass. He's an idiot."

Something dangerous flashed in the older male's single dark eye, KI flaring momentarily before it was all skillfully hidden.

The Sandaime decided to intervene. "Orochimaru tried to perform the Kinjutsu _**Edo Tensei**_ , which allows the user to resurrect and control the dead. It is irreversible. Kakashi-kun intercepted the jutsu, resulting in you all being brought forward in time, permanently."

"So we're stuck here? What about our village?! We're at war! We can't just abandon them!" Kushina yelled angrily, green eyes flashing red in her anger.

"Yeah!" Obito agree, frowning fiercely.

The older Kakashi chuckled softly and turned the page of the book in his hand.

"The war is over. We won it fourteen years ago." He replied and Jiraiya sighed at his bluntness when the time-travelers all stilled and stared at him.

"He could've said it kinder, but Kakashi is right. We won the war. If that was influenced by you traveling here our memories would've changed as well, however they haven't. As of now the five of you, six if you count Kyuubi, exist outside of the time-stream."

Kushina bowed her head appeased and Minato turned to the Hokage.

"Where are we going to stay?"

The Sandaime looked over at the older Kakashi who looked up as if sensing his gaze.

"You'll need escorts to help you adjust to the time and the changes around you and somewhere big enough for you and your escorts to stay," He began and Jiraiya started to shake his head.

"No Sensei. Don't."

"As such, Team Seven's new mission will be escorting our time travelers through the changes they are experiencing," chills raced down Kakashi's spine and he knew what his Kage was going to say before he even finished speaking.

"And you will all be staying in the Hatake Compound. Do you accept?"

Kakashi stood fluidly despite the exhaustion wracking his limbs. Jiraiya stood beside him, lips pursed in a thin line, his aura silently begging him to decline. Unfortunately, he'd always been a glutton for punishment and his eye curled into a smile.

"Hai, Hokage-sama."

"Very well. Collect your team and return here."

He bowed, ignoring the way his throat tightened and the way his mind screamed in protest.

"Hai, Hokage-sama."

 **TBC…**


	3. FullMetal Alchemist: Truth's Redemption

**Summary: Truth sends the Elric brothers back in time to live their lives all over as payment for retrieving Al's body from the gate. Can they save the mother they so dearly missed and prevent themselves from making that costly mistake? And can Trisha figure out what's hurting her boys before it's too late?**

 **Warnings: Time-Travel; AU; PTSD; Homunculus! Ed; Yaoi; Het; Nicer! Truth**

 **Pairings: RoyEd; Al/Winry; HavocRiza**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Truth stared at the human in front of him and for once in his existence, he felt regret. Guilt.

He was normally a very unbiased being...but when the sons of Hoenhiem had appeared before him all those years ago, he knew he'd been unfair. He had charged them both for their own crime and their father's, all for petty revenge and now the eldest stood before him once more, only seven years later, ready to make any sacrifice he would accept to give his brother another chance at _life_. A life beyond the cold armor he'd been bound to.

 **"You stand before me again, Edward Elric."** He greeted and the young alchemist nodded, topaz eyes full of determination. **"What is it you seek?"**

"My brother's body."

Truth sighed softly. As if he had expected otherwise.

 **"And in return?"**

A large gate appeared behind the child and Truth stilled as he realized just how far the boy would go to retrieve his brother's body.

"It's my Gate. Take my Gate and my arm, just please give Al his body back." He pleaded and the entity gave another sigh.

 **"I would like to offer an alternative."**

Edward stilled and stared at him, defeat heavy in his posture, clearly expecting the worst.

 **"When you and your brother appeared before me those years ago...I will admit that I charged you unfairly. Alphonse was only to lose his arm, just as you lost a leg. However, I was angry. I charged you for not only your Taboo but your father's as well and I was wrong for that,"** He paused watching the boy's face for any expression but finding none.

 **"I will return Alphonse's body to him. In return, you, your brother and five others will be sent to your past to relive your life over and you will take this."**

Truth held up a black, red-tinted stone and Ed faltered back a step in horror.

"A ph-philosophers stone?"

 **"The strongest one in creation. It will turn you into a homunculus...or rather a live homunculus. You will retain your ability to feel, to empathize, but only for those you care for. The rest you must find out on your own. You will keep your arm but your leg will remain as it is. Do you accept these terms?"**

Ed stared at him, at the stone, then nodded determined. Anything for Al to finally be out of that cold, _cold_ armor.

"I do."

Truth stepped forward and pressed the stone into the boy's chest directly over his heart.

 **"Very well. Good luck, Edward Elric."**

Edward raced past him, to his brother who looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"Ed?"

The older blond smiled.

"C'mon, let's get you outta here."

The younger blond nodded eagerly and clung to his brother's hand, hardly able to believe that they'd finally accomplished their goal. As they moved through the gate, however, he couldn't help but wonder what price his brother had paid in return.

* * *

It was the soft sound of humming that woke her.

The sound was so foreign, yet so familiar it made her eyes burn with tears.

 _Fly little bird, Fly far away_

 _Away from the cold and into the day_

 _Twirl and dance to the winds soft chimes_

 _And bask in the beauty of the open blue sky_

 _Fly little bird, Fly far away_

 _And sleep as you await another day_

Mother. _Her_ mother.

She curled in on herself, basking in the warmth of her mother's voice, before a sudden heart wrenching thought struck her.

This couldn't be real.

Her mother was dead.

 _Both_ of her parents were dead.

They'd set out to help out on the frontlines during the Ishvalan war and had never returned home. Instead they'd been killed by Scar only four years after the death of Trisha Elric.

…So how were they here now?

Her eyes flew open and she sat up only to gasp as she was met with her father's warm, worried gaze. He smiled at her and place one of his large, heavy hands on her forehead.

"Morning, princess. How do you feel?"

She frowned at him. The concern in his voice was so real…could it really be him?

"I-what happened?"

His brow furrowed and concern in his eyes deepened.

"You were heading over to Trisha's to play with the boys and you passed out. One of the paper boys found you and brought you home. Don't you remember?"

No…she didn't. But it did answer one of her questions. Whatever was going on, her boys were definitely involved. So until she could talk to them, she would just have to play it by ear.

With a fake smile and a blush, she nodded, vowing to speak with Ed the first chance she got.

* * *

He could see again.

He shivered, glancing around at the too familiar yet unfamiliar room around him. It was his older bedroom, the one he'd been assigned when he'd first joined the military.

…A room he hadn't slept in since the Ishvalan war.

The walls were a pale, boring grey, the room barren barring the spartan bed, desk, and wardrobe occupying it. A picture of him and his aunt Chris sat on the stand by his bed, the only thing that had never changed regardless of his residence.

With nary a sound he slipped from his bed and cautiously approached his mirror, his heart pounding in his chest as possibilities flooded his mind. There, in the mirror was a lean seventeen-year-old man staring back at him, confirming the worst of his suspicions.

He was back in the past.

What had Ed done?

* * *

She had to be dreaming.

She twisted and turned, marveling at the bare skin of her back, free of those horrible markings for the first time since her childhood. Her hair hung longer than she was used to, her body slimmer, younger than it had been when she'd finally collapsed of exhaustion and bloodloss.

Had Ed won?

A knock sounded on her bedroom door and she jolted, stilling as a familiar gruff voice sounded on the other side.

"Riza, get dressed. Major Mustang will be here in a little while."

"Y-yes, father." She replied, the raging storm inside her calming as she heard her best friend's/ superior's name.

If anyone could figure out what Ed had done it would be Roy, he knew the teen better than anyone. All she had to do was be patient. Her eyes narrowed as she realized she was unarmed.

And get herself another gun.

* * *

Something was wrong.

He was alone in his bed for the first time in almost three years, his wife's slender form no longer curled beside him like it normally was. In fact, he glanced around with a frown, this was not the bedroom him and Riza shared.

It was the bedroom at his parents' home, a place he hadn't been since his father's death almost a year previous, and his mother's years earlier.

What the hell was he doing here?

He reached up to grab a cigarette from his shirt pocket, only to find himself shirtless.

…and where the hell were his smokes?!

Somehow, he just knew this was that bastard Roy's fault.

* * *

" **This is your last chance, Van Hoenhiem. Do not fail him."**

He frowned lightly as he pondered Truth's words. He'd been surprised when he'd been pulled before the Gate shortly after Ed had vanished but the entity had explained nothing to him. Instead it had merely gazed at him blankly, then smirked widely, perfect teeth menacing.

Then with only that one statement it had allowed the gatekeepers to appear and drag him through the gate.

He thought it would be his death.

Instead he awakened in a hotel room, years in the past with one thought in mind.

It was time to go home to his family.

 **TBC…**


	4. Naruto: The Devil's Advocate

**Summary:** **During their mission in the Wave, Team Seven happen across two men many believed to be dead. How will Uchiha Obito and his younger brother Uchiha Shisui cope in a world where their clan has been annihilated by their once gentle cousin, and said cousin's brother is after his life with a vengeance? Can they uncover the Truth of the Massacre and possibly Itachi's endgame? Will he let them?**

 **WARNING/TAGS:** **Slash; Het; Canon-Typical Violence; Implied/Mentioned Torture; Mentions of Canon Genocide; Possible Citrus; Good-But-Bad! Akatsuki**

 **Chapter One**

"What would you know about pain and suffering?! You live in Konoha with your parents and your family! You've never suffered a day in your life!"

Sasuke's lips twisted into a furious snarl at the brat's words, his appetite suddenly leaving him. Inari, their client's grandson had been glaring at them and ranting since they'd returned, however Sasuke had been able to ignore it all…until now.

This brat had his grandfather and his mother waiting for him every time he returned home while he had nothing but _that man._ The man who had taken it _all_ away from him and left him nothing but the memories of his role model slitting their parents' throats!

Inari didn't know what it meant to have _nothing_ and he open his mouth to yell at the child but to his surprise, Naruto beat him to it, radiating killing intent almost as strong as _his._

"You don't know what it means to suffer, you selfish little brat! You have a family who loves you, but you continue to whine and cry like a star in some melodrama! Some of us don't even have _that_ and you'd do well to remember that. For every second of your pain there is _always_ someone that has it worse!"

Cerulean blue eyes flashed a dark crimson before their owner turned and stormed from the room, fuming.

Kakashi sighed drawing all of their attention to him. "Despite the fact that he could've said it kinder, Naruto is right. There are others, himself included that have suffered the worst the world has to offer and still manage to face the day with a smile."

His lone visible eye moved to Sasuke.

"Go find him."

Sasuke nodded and stood, knowing his sensei was giving him a chance to calm down. Still, as he exited the house, taunting Sharingan eyes flashed behind his eyelids.

He shoved them aside and went to chase after his teammate.

After all, he wasn't on _his_ level yet.

* * *

Naruto was lost.

Half an hour had passed since he had run from their client's house in a fit and since calming, ten minutes previous he had been trying to find his way back, but he was hopeless with directions as it turned out.

Groaning in frustration, the young kitsune looked around hoping to find something familiar.

He found nothing.

A bush rustled behind him and he spun around kunai raised defensively, to find two men behind him. The first was tall and seemed to be around Kakashi-sensei's age wearing a black wide-collared shirt, not unlike the ones Sasuke-teme favored, His skin richly tanned like Naruto's own and his hair splayed in a spiky mess atop his head. The other was leaning on the first, unconscious, and seemed slightly younger than the first, his hair longer and falling in soft spikes just below his ears. He wore the same thing as his companion, barring the fact that while the older wore long black shinobi pants he wore standard knee-length shorts.

The most peculiar thing, however, was that both men wore a Konoha hiate, and yet Naruto knew he'd never seen them before in his life.

"M-my brother," The first pleaded softly, onyx eyes wide and full of tears. "You have to help my otouto! He won't wake up!"

Naruto swallowed thickly, unsure of whether it was a trap or not, he glanced at the unconscious man, still…he couldn't just leave them there.

Kakashi-sensei would know what to do.

"I-I, alright. My sensei will know what to do, dattebayo."

A relieved sigh left the man who pulled his brother closer, before he stilled and looked at Naruto wide-eyed.

"Dattebayo?"

Naruto blushed, but shrugged unwilling to explain his verbal tick to the stranger. Instead he turned, yelping when he almost crashed face first into a person emerging from the bushes in front of him. He scowled, instantly recognizing the moonlit pale skin and dimly amused onyx gaze of his oldest teammate.

"Teme, what the hell?!"

"Kakashi-sensei sent me to get you, dobe." He glanced at the man following the blond, then at the man's cargo. His eyes widened.

"Shisui?"

Naruto blinked, taking in the haunted gleam in the older boy's eyes.

"Ano, teme, you know them?"

Sasuke nodded slowly. "I don't know him," he gestured to the man standing, before returning his gaze to the unconscious man.

"But the man, he's holding is my cousin…Uchiha Shisui."

The jinchuriki's eyes widened and he turned to stare at the two shinobi he'd happened upon. He, like everyone else in Konoha, had heard of the horrors of the Uchiha Massacre. Some man named Itachi had gone psycho and killed everyone, leaving Sasuke as the last of his clan. To happen upon two Uchiha, so long after the Massacre, it was a miracle. It meant Sasuke wouldn't have to be alone anymore!

He looked up at his teammate, wondering why Sasuke didn't look as happy as he should. In fact, the older boy looked pained.

"We need to head back." The raven monotoned, turning away from the two men and before anyone could speak, he took to the trees. Naruto shot the newcomers a look then followed, somehow knowing the man was following behind him.

* * *

Obito frowned deeply as he followed the young Minato-sensei look-alike, and the mini Uchiha, pondering what could have put such a look on the latter boy's face. Three hours had passed since he had awakened in a cave underground to find himself in a body much older than it should be, lying next to the unconscious form of his baby brother, who also seemed older than he had been when Obito had last seen him. Then again, Shisui had been seven years old the last time he had seen him, so he supposed it would stand to garner that the other boy was older now.

He glanced down at the unconscious figure in his arms, wondering why his otouto wouldn't wake…and why his body felt perfectly fine despite having been crushed by rocks last he checked.

He sighed and resigned himself to asking the brats' sensei when he arrived.

His eyes widened and suddenly the young Uchiha's word's filtered into his mind.

" _Kakashi-sensei sent me to get you, dobe."_

A soft curse left his lips. BakaKashi was a sensei…god help the world.

This would be interesting.

 **TBC…**


	5. NarutoKuroshitsuji: A Raven under a dark

**Summary: Itachi is reincarnated as Ciel Phantomhive following his death at the hands of Sasuke. For years, his memories and powers have lain dormant. As they reawaken, he must balance the merging of their personalities, the reemergence of his Mangekyou, and hiding it all from his ever observant butler.**

 **Pairing: KisaIta(Ciel)**

 **WARNING: X-OVER, OOC! ness, Canon-typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Language, Hinted PTSD, Fatherly!Sebastian**

 **Chapter One**

He couldn't help but smile.

Even with the hatred blazing in the crimson gaze in front of him and the pain wracking his slim frame, the only thought in his mind was that he'd finally succeeded. Sasuke had become strong, even under the insanity and instability of his mind, he was strong., on par with a sannin if he was measuring things right. Even though the teen hated him, even as the chidori blazed in his right hand, Itachi could only feel pride.

He staggered forward, fighting a gasp as the lightning covered hand plunged into his chest. Blood flooded his lungs and trailed down his chin, darkness creeping into his vision. Despite it all, he lifted his arm, ignoring his little brother's flinch, and poked him in the head before falling forward and allowing the darkness to overtake him.

" _Thank you…otouto."_

" _There is no value in killing the likes of you... if you wish to kill me, then Hate me. Detest me, curse me, and survive in an unsightly way. Run, Run and cling to your pitiful life_ _."_

" _ **Hate me."**_

Hate? Who was he supposed to hate? His captors? His demon? His parent's murderer?

His once innocent eyes narrowed into a cold, angry glare.

His captors? Yes.

His captors deserved his hatred. They had humiliated him, tried to break him, then had the nerve to _sacrifice_ him. They would pay for their slights against him!

 _Why was it that being a sacrifice didn't bother him as much as it should?_

" _ **Detest me."**_

His Demon? No.

No matter what happened he would never be able to hate him.

Sebastian was his savior. His salvation. He would be his weapon to wield in the search for his revenge and once it was over…he would be the key to his demise. His salvation.

 _Why was it his heart panged so longingly at the thought of death?_

" _ **Curse me."**_

His parents' murderer? Absolutely.

They more than any other should be the object of his hate, for it was due to their actions that he'd ended up in the hands of that vile cult to begin with. Everything could be traced back to that horrific night. To the smell of burning wood and charring flesh. Of smoke and burning lungs.

 _He rebelled heavily against the part of him that screamed that this was familiar, only he was playing the wrong role._

" _ **Hate me."**_

He hated them.

He's walking home from an important meeting when he sees them.

Two young boys, one his own age, the other several years younger. The elder boy was teasing the younger, who is pouting.

"Will you play still?"

The elder sighs tiredly, his shoulders slumping under invisible burdens.

"Maybe tomorrow, Jerry."

He turns away and hurries his step, unable to understand why his heart feels so heavy and broken in his chest. He'd never had a sibling before.

 _His heart tells him he's lying to himself and that night when he sleeps, angry crimson eyes plague his dreams._

 **^(^(^**

She is a guest at the Viscount's ball. Long black hair falls in lush ringlets down her back, her slightly narrowed eyes giving away her eastern heritage. Her gown is a beautiful midnight blue that clings to her torso beautifully before flowing down into a bundle of loose skirts. When she greets him (or rather her at the time), her voice is warm like hot chocolate and just as sweet and yet…he hates her.

He has no reason for it other than the way his heart suddenly feels like it's being crushed in his chest and his lungs feel like they've collapsed.

He avoids her for the rest of the evening.

 _His only clues to this reaction are the image of a different dark-haired woman, similar to her in appearance covered in blood that overlaps her smiling visage and the echo of a soft whisper._

" _I'm sorry it had to be you. I forgive you."_

 _He ignores the voice because after all, what does he know about forgiveness._

Madame Red is Jack the Ripper.

He doesn't understand how he comes to this conclusion, but it hits him while they're playing chess together in his sitting room. He watches her silently, his eyes sharpening so subtly that none of the room's other occupants notice, not even the demon holding his contract.

Something in her posture screams wrong, so wrong, to him but he says nothing listening as she tries to convince him to give his job as the Queen's Hound. He responds with what is expected of him but inside, he hardens his heart knowing that his beloved aunt would not survive the week. His orders were to rid the Queen of Jack the Ripper, and no one comes before the Queen's wishes, not even family.

When she gets ready to leave, he plays as if he were unaware of her deeds and he kisses her goodnight while the demon helps her into her coat.

The 'I love you' he sends her off with seems heavier than it should be.

 _Why does it feel like he's done this before? He's never murdered a family member, nor had he ever been ordered to rid the world of one._

It's during the confrontation with Grell and Madame Red that it all makes sense.

As his favorite aunt stumbles out of the victim's house covered in blood, something inside him breaks and memories rush into his mind. A cool feeling rushes through his tiny body and he freezes, eyes burning.

 _He was Uchiha Itachi._ He was Ciel Phantomhive. _His parents were Uchiha Fugaku and Uchiha Mikoto._ His parents were Rachel and Vincent Phantomhive. _He was twenty-one years old._ He was thirteen. _He had a little brother named Sasuke._ He was an only child. _He was a puppet._ He was the puppeteer. _He was a shinobi._ He was the Queen's GuardDog.

He remembered.

He remembered his baby brother's birth. Remembered joining the academy and graduating at seven years old. Mastering his Sharingan at eight. Becoming a Chuunin at ten and entering the Anbu at eleven, becoming the youngest Anbu captain in history at thirteen.

He remembered the Third Shinobi War and the Kyuubi attack. Remembered protecting the Kyuubi Jinchuriki from the villagers and shinobi alike, befriending the child as he did so. He remembered his best friend's suicide and obtaining the Mangekyou. Remembered his father trying to convince him to spy on the village, not realizing that he was spying _for_ it.

He remembered murdering his family at thirteen years old on order of the council because of proof of a coup d'état. He remembered forcing his otouto to relive their parents' deaths over and over again with the powers of the Mangekyou just to plant the seeds of hatred that would spurn Sasuke into a downward spiral but enable him to grow stronger.

He remembered the tears that streamed down his cheeks as he faced his mother whispering her forgiveness as he slit her throat. Fleeing his home, a criminal and joining the Akatsuki. Becoming Kisame's partner.

Watching Sasuke grow. His sorrow at hearing that his brother was in Orochimaru's clutches. Pride, when he heard the teen had killed the bastard sannin. His death at the hands of the one he gave up everything for.

So many memories flashed in his mind at the speed of light and he was dimly aware of Madame Red speaking.

"Well, I hadn't counted on this. I didn't think anyone would be able to figure out what Grell truly is."

He stared at her, and he feels a broken chuckle building in his chest as those words once again echo in his head and for once he _understands._

 _There is no value in killing the likes of you... Foolish little brother, if you wish to kill me, then Hate me. Detest me, curse me, and survive in an unsightly way. Run, Run and cling to your pitiful life."_

The irony of it all doesn't escape him.

Still after explaining his reasoning behind suspecting her he turns to Sebastian, thankful that he had prepared for this eventuality.

His soul shudders, burdened by his memories and his next order but he ignores it all because all along the voices were right.

"Sebastian, in my name and that of the Queen. I order you, get rid of them."

It wasn't the first time he'd had to sacrifice a piece of himself on order of another.

 **TBC…**


	6. Teen WolfSuicide Squad:Harley femStiles

**Summary: S5! AU/ Post Suicide Squad AU- It had been ten years. Ten years since she'd left Beacon Hill, five since she'd spoken to her father. After a devastating loss she finds herself back in her hometown, facing all those she left behind. Can they handle the Queen of the Gotham underground, and is her King really as dead as she thinks he is?**

 **Pairings: Past- Sterek; Scallisaac; Erica/Boyd; Joker/Harley; Lydia/Deadshot; Cora/Liam; Malia/Mason; Ethan/Danny**

 **Warnings: Canon Typical violence; Mental instability; Torture; Aftermath of Torture; Canon Character death; Temporary (?) character death; Language; Always a female! Stiles; Harley is fem Stiles; Post-nogitsune! Stiles; Dark! Stiles; Derek is a failwolf; Joker is a Hale; SPOILERS!**

 **Chapter One**

It was over.

Harley watched in barely concealed jealously as Flag embraced his girlfriend, her heart aching painfully in her chest as he kissed her.

She looked away.

That should be her and her Mistah J.

Her puddin' was gone, _gone_ and he wasn't coming back this time. She was all alone…again.

" _You're never alone."_ Rumbled a low voice and she shivered. That voice, so eerily familiar, she knew it almost as well as she knew her own. It had been her constant companion for over a decade, and only her puddin' knew the extent of the pain that voice put her through.

Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them back, stiffening as a large gentle hand landed on her shoulder.

Deadshot.

He looked worried, his dark eye soft in a way she remembered from _that_ life, one man in particular. She fought not to snarl, forcing her gaze away from his.

"You alright, dollface?"

She smiled, a small broken thing full of pain and anger.

"I'm fine." The words were a lie, they nearly always were.

He nodded, taking them for what they were but kind enough not to ask about it. Instead he turned to Flag, who was watching them with gratitude lining his features.

"What now?"

"Now? I've been offered presidential pardons for all of you for your services. Waller is dead, though, so we'll need to head back to base to go over the details."

The criminals stared at him, stunned. They hadn't thought it would actually happen but Flag's expression was nothing but sincere.

They were being released.

"Puddin' too?" Flag sent her a soft look, not unlike Deadshot's and she wanted to kill him.

"…yea. Him too."

A weight lifted in her chest, if only for a moment. She'd helped her puddin' even if he wasn't there to see it.

Following the man out of the trashed station as a plane dropped to pick them up the group climbed into the aircraft and tried to plan out what they would do with their lives now that they were officially free.

All the while each of them tried to ignore the tiny spark of warmth in their chests that had appeared upon completing their heroic deeds. After all they were bad guys…right?

Freedom.

She had longed for it since being thrown in Belle Reve two years previous and it was finally in her grasp, with only the stipulation that in case of another metahuman attack she return to fight. It was a stipulation she'd had no problem agreeing with, especially since she'd regained a family in her teammates.

Deadshot smiled at her, pulling her into a hug.

"Got any plans, doll?"

She shook her head. She couldn't go back to Gotham, not without her lover. There were too many memories, too much pain, and if she went back without him, she'd lose the slight dredges of sanity she had left.

Without her Joker, she would burn Gotham to the ground and laugh in the ashes. He was her anchor and he was _gone._

"Why not return home?" Fla- no, _Rick_ asked her and she frowned at him, curiously. He held up a thin folder with the words **"Top Secret"** printed on it.

"Waller, had you under surveillance long before you became the Queen of Gotham, Harls. She saw you as a threat, especially after you continued to show up at nearly every strange crime scene in your hometown. She put you on the list while you were in Eichen House, but she didn't find out you were Harleen Quintzel until after you were imprisoned here."

Harley stared at him, at the file in his hands, and for once the voices in her head were silent.

She missed her hometown fiercely, always had, but she didn't want to leave her new friends, not so soon after her lover' death. On the other hand, Gotham was the most interesting town in the country outside of her own, and she knew she'd be restless and bored anywhere else.

An idea hit her and she smiled.

"What do you guys think about moving to Beacon Hills? I hear the weather is great, there's a lot of death and maiming, oh and animal attacks. The animal attacks are important."

They all looked at her, then at each other, contemplating the decision and her heart pounded violently in her chest. Maybe they didn't feel the pull like she did. Maybe they wouldn't come.

She didn't want to be alone.

Deadshot smiled first and the others followed his lead.

"Well, I'm game."

Captain Boomerang, and she was so _not_ going to call him that all the time, shrugged.

"Got nothin' better to do. Plus, there's a nice little jewelry store in Los Angeles, I've been meaning to hit."

"I will go." Katana agreed nodding.

Croc frowned and Harley smiled. "There's a large lake on the preserve that you can live in."

He grinned. "Alright."

Rick chuckled, his arm wrapped firmly around his fiancée. "I'm retiring in two weeks. Y'all look for a place."

They nodded, and Deadshot smirked.

"Wanna meet my Baby?"

Harley giggled, nodding wildly. "Can I? Pretty please?!"

"C'mon."

She waved bye to the others and Rick waved back.

"See y'all in two weeks."

She smiled, and excitement pumped in her blood.

She was going home, her smile sharpened into the deadly grin that her puddin' had loved. The Pack wouldn't know what hit it.

 **TBC…**


	7. TWSS Pt2

**Chapter Two**

John was happy.

Tara raised an eyebrow as her boss entered the station with a content smile on his face, his eyes sparkling in a way she hadn't seen since Stiles had stopped calling five years previous.

The girl had left town after a horrible fight with Scott McCall and hadn't returned and when she stopped calling they'd all assumed she was dead. It had taken Tara and half of the BHPD to stop their boss from falling back into the bottle. They had succeeded but getting him to smile nowadays was like pulling teeth, unless you were Melissa McCall, his wife. Therefore, she felt that it was only right for her to be curious.

"Sir?"

He glanced at her and grinned. "She's alive, Tara. My baby girl is coming home."

Something warmed in the woman's chest at his words and she grinned back at him, relief coursing through her veins. She, along with most of the deputies at the station had watched the girl grow up and she was like a niece to them. Her death had killed them, so hearing that she was alive…it was like a weight had been lifted off their chests.

"When is she coming?"

"Her and a few friends going to be moving into Mrs. Langston's old home in two weeks. She just called to let me know they were coming…and to ensure that I've been keeping to the diet she set for me."

Tara snickered. "Like anyone would go against it."

He sighed, but his eyes danced with far too much happiness to be upset.

"She's coming home, Tara. She's coming home."

* * *

" _Harleen isn't my real name."_

 _Joker hummed softly, running a callous hand down her back as sweat cooled their bodies. She loved when he was like this, his chaos calmed to a gentle lull that only she got to see._

" _Joker isn't mine." He responded and she smiled, curling closer to him._

" _I never woulda guessed." She responded giggling when he shot her a fond, yet exasperated look._

" _Tell me your name." He ordered and she flushed at how the order resonated deep inside of her._

" _Mieczysława. Mieczysława Stilinski."_

 _He stared at her for a moment. "You're polish."_

 _Her blush darkened and she looked away. "I am."_

" _Mieczysława," He purred and she gasped as his breath ghosted across her throat. "My name is Alexander. Alexander Hale."_

 _Her head shot up. "Any relation to Derek Hale?"_

 _He raised an eyebrow in a move that told her he couldn't not be related to Derek. "You know my nephew?"_

" _Yes."_

 _He let out a low snarl, hearing the pain in her voice, rolling so that he was on top of her._

" _You're mine." He growled and she mewled, back arching as she tried to press herself closer to him._

" _Always, puddin'._ _ **Always.**_ _"_

Harley sighed softly as they passed the 'Welcome to Beacon Hills' sign, a soft giggle leaving her as she saw the adjustments made to the sign.

"Aunt Harley, are you alright?" She glanced at Zoe with a small smile and nodded. She'd grown close to the little girl since Deadshot had introduced them and she couldn't help but feel those old nurturing instincts flooding back every time the kid was near her. She talked about babies with her puddin' but they'd never been able to make good on it. She wanted her own pups.

"Where is this house again, Harls?" Rick asked and she rolled her eyes.

"Let me drive."

"No!" They all responded quickly, alarmed and she pouted.

"Fine! It's the big house next to one with the police cruiser in the driveway."

"We live next door to the sheriff?!" June gasped and Harley grinned at them, as they pulled up in the drive way to find, said sheriff waiting for them. The second the car was parked, she raced out the door and tackled him into a hug.

"DADDY!"

He caught her with practiced eased, his arms strong and sure as they embraced her and for the first time in weeks, she felt like she could exhale.

"Stiles! I missed you, baby girl."

She sniffled, pulling back with a watery grin, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I missed you too, daddy." She looked back at her friends.

"These are my friends. Floyd, George, June, Rick, Waylon, and Tatsu." She picked up Zoe easily. "And this is Floyd's daughter, Zoe. Isn't she just the cutest?!"

John stared at his daughter's friends with a raised eyebrow, not even batting an eyebrow at the one that looked like a giant crocodile. He sighed.

"You couldn't just make normal friends could you? C'mon inside. You owe me an explanation for the five years of radio silence. The rest of you, I hope you enjoy your stay in Beacon Hills."

The former criminals nodded, staring at their friend stunned, all except Flag who smiled slightly and turned to their new house.

Somehow he had the feeling that Beacon Hills could become a home to all of them.

* * *

John Stilinski was not a religious man.

He'd never been the type to go to church regularly or pray faithfully, however as he held his baby girl in his arms, he felt like he should fall to his knees and thank God for her return.

She shifted, curling closer to him, and he found himself wondering just what had happened to he while she was away.

She was thin, not dangerously so, but she was far too light for someone her age. Her hair was no longer his wife's mahogany, instead it was a pale platinum bond, almost white in color, pulled back into a ponytail, where her blue and pink tips mixed. Most importantly was the collage of tattoos marring her pale skin, almost hiding the unfamiliar too-light scars from his keen gaze.

His baby had changed.

Taking a seat in his favorite recliner, cradling her in his lap.

"Talk to me, sweetie. What happened?"

She looked up at him, flecks of green swirling in the formerly amber eyes.

"I changed my name. Used my middle name and mama's maiden name. Took my classes online and managed to get my associates then powered through my doctorate's. I didn't mean to lose contact, daddy." She shivered, then a dangerous smile crossed her lips, even as her eyes softened.

"I did my residency at Arkham and I fell in love. He…oh, he was so beautiful. So _broken._ " A tear slid down her cheek.

"He was mine."

John's heart clenched painfully in his chest, warring with his confusion and he found himself hoping that his daughter hadn't suffered through the same pain that he had. The loss of a spouse was one of the worst things to deal with in life and looking in her eyes he knew his hopes were in vain.

She was using past tense.

Whoever _He_ was…he was dead.

"Where've you been?"

"Prison."

He blinked and looked at her hoping she was joking, but she was grinning brightly as if it was something to be proud of.

"Prison." He deadpanned.

And she nodded vigorously, her eyes lighting up.

"Yep. Belle Reve. It's the worst prison in the country. Mandy pulled us out to use us for her own needs, then Witchy killed her." Something manic sharpened her smile. "Killed her dead. Ricky got us all pardoned."

He stared at her, taking in the mania in her eyes and knew that whatever she'd done in the past to earn a prison sentence wasn't something he should know. She'd always been that way, manic bordering on sociopathic and seeing her be herself, without all the masks she tended to wear…it was relieving. It shouldn't have been but it was and he knew that The Pack was in for a big surprise if they thought she was gonna come crawling back to them.

A very big surprise.

 **TBC…**


	8. Paint It Red: TWKuroshitsuji

**Summary: He had always had a love hate relationship with the color red and when they perform the ritual sacrifice, the block hiding some very important memories is removed. How will the Teen Wolf verse change when Stiles is gains knowledge of the human underworld as well as some darker secrets? Kuroshitsuji X-Over**

 **Pairing: Sterek, Scallison, Boyd/Erica**

 **Tags: Pack Mother! Stiles; Reincarnation; X-Over; Post Nogitsune; Nogitsune trauma; Canon-Typical violence; Dark-not evil!Stiles; Red!Stiles; Stiles is Madame Red; Slash; Het; Sheriff Stilinski finds out; Grell; Puppy Isaac**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

As far as he remembered, he'd always had a strange relationship with the color red.

He'd been born with the devil's red eyes and hair the color of his mother's favorite crimson roses, and he'd hated it. Over time, he'd started wearing it in a buzz cut to keep from seeing that horrid color, and, after discovering he'd need glasses, he convinced his mother to get him a pair of contacts that matched her eyes. It helped and yet part of him still yearned for the cursed color and it began to show in his clothing. Red and black plaid shirts, red shoes no matter the style, the color ,ended so beautifully with his skin that he couldn't not adore it.

It confused others as much as it confused him, but his parents should assured him to there loved him regardless.

As he grew older, he also noticed certain aspects about himself that set him apart from others his age.

He was cold, sometimes ruthless when crossed, but most of the time he was flamboyant and loud, full of energy even at the most inopportune times. The doctors called it ADHD and prescribed him pills that were supposed to temper it. He never told them that they didn't work.

He was also slender, slightly feminine in looks and mannerisms, crossing his legs as he sat, sitting with his back straight when in company of others, and clasping his hands in his lap as he did so.

When his mother fell ill, the dreams began, bringing out the caretaker in him to the point where his parents argued that he was trying to take their place as the parent in their relationship. The jibe stung a bit when he thought back to the dreams, the way the red woman in the felt when her one chance at motherhood was ripped away by that dreaded accident, her husband taken shortly after. When his mother died, he couldn't help but wonder why the pain in his chest felt so familiar.

The dreams worsened bringing panic attacks with them and darkening as the years passed.

He dreamed of the woman in red and her sister, of the charming man who's gaze set her blood alight. He dreamed of the day the man chose her sister over her, of marrying a Baron and falling in love with him despite her love for the other. By the time the dreams moved into her life with the Baron and discovering her pregnancy, it felt like he and the woman were the same person. He felt her devastation at losing her child, and her husband days apart, then her sister only days later. He felt her relief at finding her nephew after the child had gone missing and the pain she felt when she committed her first murder realizing that eventually she'd be going against him. She committed murder after murder, with Grell at her side and his betrayal had hurt her. He'd killed her and Stiles had felt her death as if it were his own.

For years, the dreams plagued him, fueling his nightmares and panic attacks, but he kept them from everyone, dealing with them with the same mask the woman in his dreams wore, adding a few changes of his own. He forced himself to smile even when he felt like crying, turning his ADHD into a shield to hide behind and using sarcasm as if it were a second language. It fooled everyone, even Scott, who reminded him of Ciel, before the murder of the child's parents. The child, her nephew, had been so happy and naive...innocent and oblivious of the world. The underworld took that from the boy and Stiles had hoped nothing would take it from Scott.

Then Scott was bitten...and the supernatural took the older boy's innocence and twisted it.

Morbid curiosity had led him to the preserve in search of body, he'd wanted to see it, wondered if he'd feel the same as the woman had. If he'd feel the same wonder and disgust. He'd missed it though, separated from Scott, who found the body before he could, while he himself had been caught by his father beforehand. It set things in motion that he'd never expected. Things that would clarify the memories and everything for him.

* * *

He came across reincarnation on accident.

It was shortly after Erica's death. He'd been splitting his time researching the Alpha Pack, Peter's resurrection, and the darach, all the while trying to keep their pitiful little pack from falling apart. Because of this, he'd shoved the topic and his dreams to the back of his mind to be examined at a later date…but he never forgot them. Perhaps that was his mistake.

The darach kidnapped their parents as sacrifices and suddenly it was all coming together. He, Allison, and Scott went to Deaton for help and we're asked to sacrifice themselves in their parents place. They decided to do so, despite being warned of the consequences, and just before he went under the dreams and his own memories flashed before his eyes. The hands on his shoulders pushed under the water and a door seemed to open, then he knew no more.

* * *

He came to in a dark abyss.

Memories floated through the dark space around him, his crimson eyes unveiled as they gaze around unabashedly. He knew each and everyone of these emerges intimately. Some were his, but others belonged to her, Madame Red, and finally he understood.

They were the same person.

She was his past, the life he'd live before this one, and he was her present, her second chance at life and family.

"I didn't think you'd understand our predicament so soon." Came a smooth voice.

He turned, knowing who she was before he set eyes on her.

"Madame Red." He greeted and she smiled warmly.

"You are me. The Dalles Estates still exist a and carry considerable weight even here. Obtain them and complete our goal. Become the new Jack the Ripper…but find love. My love was taken from me, but you, you still have a chance. Claim the wolf that holds your heart and get the family we were both denied."

He nodded and her smile widened.

"Become the new Madame Red, and show the world just how dangerous we humans can be." His lips curled into a smirk as she stepped closer, cupping his cheek.

"And finally, kill Grell Sutcliffe."

Her lips met his, merging their beings and it all went dark. Moments later, in Dr. Deaton's bright crimson eyes shot open.

Madame Red had returned.

 **TBC…**


	9. Former Military PTSD! Daryl Walking Dead

**Summary: Before the ZA, Daryl was a marine who'd been medically discharged for severe PTSD and depression. Can he keep this hidden from the group? Especially when his meds run out? S3 AU**

 **Pairing: Rickyl**

 **Warnings: Trigger WARNING; Depression: PTSD; Canon-typical violence; Daryl Whump; Implied Torture and Abuse; Protective! Merle**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 _ **I'll make a soldier's decision to fly away**_

 _ **Load my gun paint my face call me Misery**_

 _ **I can see the sky light up and the ground explode**_

He was trapped.

Daryl curled in on himself, every muscle tensed. His normally crystal blue eyes were a dull colorless grey and gazed blankly at the walls of his tent.

He was trapped somewhere that no one could save him from.

His mind.

His _memories_.

Memories of burning sand and blistering midday suns. Of the coppery scent of blood and water flooding burning lungs. Of pain and the recoil of a machine gun and _'Just a few more days'_.

Beside him, Merle watched him with sad grey eyes wishing he could reach out the man he had somewhat raised. He couldn't though, not after what happened last time.

A quiet whimper left his brother, who flinched violently and curled in tighter, his lean frame trembling even as his eyes began to clear.

"M-Mer?"

Merle smiled softly, knowing it was safe to move closer now that the fit was over, and began to stroke the younger's soft sandy blond hair. Six months and Daryl's PTSD only seemed to be getting worse, especially with the end of the world happening.

"I'm here, Lil D."

"What happened? Did I have another episode?"

Merle nodded and sighed. "You're almost outta meds, Baby Brother. Need ta getcha some more when I go on that run."

His little brother shook his head, grey-blue eyes troubled.

"I have a bad feeling 'bout that run."

The elder Dixon scowled and gave stressed sigh. "Me too. Don' trust these people as far as I can throw 'em…but you need the medicine, Daryl. You're getting worse."

Daryl looked away guiltily and sat up.

"I know." He snarled in frustration and Merle gave him a sad smile, frowning as he heard Shane calling for the group heading into town. His brother frowned as well, then sighed.

"Be careful, Merle."

The elder Dixon smirked, trying to ignore the dread building in his gut that told him he wouldn't be coming home from this one.

* * *

Merle Dixon was a handful.

Rick couldn't help but scowl at the boisterous man as he cursed and struggled against the handcuffs binding him to the large metal pipe on the building.

"I'm fuckin' serious, Officer Friendly! Let me outta these things." The man snarled but the fear in his eyes was very real. Strangely enough the fear didn't even seem to be for himself, but for someone else. Someone back at the camp Glenn had told him about.

Beside the man sat a large Ziploc bag full of different bottles of medicine, which he kept trying to hide from the others. Of course, Andrea saw them and glared at him.

"You did all of that for some drugs?!" She shrieked and he sneered at her.

"You don' know nothin' so shut yer yap."

"I know you're a drug addicted, selfish asshole."

Merle ignored her and turned his gaze back onto Rick.

"Let me out."

The former cop stared at him for a moment, somehow able to tell that the drugs in the bag weren't for some recreational purpose. No, Merle was getting them for someone important to him, someone that didn't want anyone to know they were ailing.

"T-Dog, hand me the keys."

The dark-skinned man nodded and moved to hand him the keys only to trip over a nearby pipe. The keys flew through the air and Rick rushed to grab them only to watch dismayed as they fell down a drain for too deep for them to reach.

Merle shook his head in panicked disbelief and yanked on the cuffs so hard his wrists began to bleed.

"This ain't funny!" He cried. "Let me outta these things!"

The snarls of walkers reached their ears and grisly hands reached through the doors and T-Dog hurriedly grabbed an abandoned chain and bound the door, preventing the Walkers from entering the rooftop.

"We'll be back for you." Rick promised knowing it was much too dangerous to stay where they were any longer.

Merle continued to struggle, trying to force his hands free from their bonds.

"Please! Don't leave me here!" He yelled. "Don't leave me here!"

"I'm sorry." T-Dog apologized. "I'm so sorry."

Rick ushered them all through the other door, watching as Merle stilled and watched them with betrayal clear in his eyes. The older man collapsed back against the pipe, wrists bloody, and picked up the bag of meds, tossing it at him. He caught it deftly.

"There's a man at our camp named Daryl. Give those to 'im and tell 'im, I'm sorry."

"We're gonna come back for you." Rick promised but Merle snorted skeptically.

"You might…but they won't."

* * *

Hiding the meds in the pack Morgan had given him, he sent the man one last glance and left the roof. Later that day, as they were driving back to camp, Rick finally had a chance to ask the question that had been bugging him since leaving Merle on the rooftop.

"It's not too bad that you left Merle…I mean the guy was terrible and no one will really miss him," Morales tried to reassure him the paused. "Except maybe Daryl."

There was that name again. This was his chance to find out more about the person Merle obviously cared so much about. "Daryl?"

Andrea shifted uncomfortably. "Merle's baby brother. Real quiet guy, he doesn't really talk much. Spends most of his time hunting."

Rick's heart sank. A brother. He had deprived someone of what was probably their only living relative in this post-apocalyptic hell.

Morales sighed. "Bad temper though. Ain't never had a tongue lashing as bad as the one Dixon gave me when he thought I was 'bout to fight Merle."

Rick stayed silent and he could only hope that this 'Daryl' character would forgive him.

As luck would have it, when they arrived at the camp he was reunited with his own family, something that made him feel even worse about what he had done. He had left another man's family for dead only to be reunited with his own mere hours later. As they sat around the fire eating, he was informed that the younger Dixon was out hunting and had been since the group had left two days previous. His heart ached at the news as he realized that the man was expecting to come back to his older brother, alive and well and would only find grief. A grief the others in the group didn't seem to share if the barely hidden relief in their eyes was any indication.

Only the children and a kind woman named Carol actually seemed to think that Merle being left behind was a bad thing. It kind of made him wonder.

Just what kind of man was Merle Dixon?

* * *

Daryl Dixon was beautiful.

Messy sandy blond hair fell in disarray atop his head, falling into stormy grey-blue eyes, thin pink lips accented by the beauty mark near the left side of his mouth. He was lean and agile, full of a predatory grace that made Rick swallow thickly.

He'd just left the man's brother for dead, he shouldn't be checking him out.

The hunter's keen gaze danced across each of their faces, picking them apart mercilessly…then he looked around.

"Where's m' brother?" He growled, grip tightening on his crossbow and muscles tensing.

"There was a problem in Atlanta." Shane started and the younger Dixon glanced at him.

"Is he dead?"

"We don't know." Daryl scowled darkly.

"Either he is or he ain't!" He snapped, but the pain in his voice was so raw that Rick couldn't help but step forward.

That sharp gaze snapped to him immediately and he fought a flinch.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Rick Grimes."

Daryl's eyes narrowed. "Rick _Grimes,_ you got something you wanna tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so I… handcuffed him to a pipe on the roof. He's still there."

The blond stilled, his hands tightening around the squirrel line on his shoulder.

"Hold up, lemme process this. You're saying that you handcuffed my brother to the roof… _and you left him there!_ " Something feral echoed in the man's voice as he snarled at them, stormy eyes flashing with something Rick couldn't recognize.

"It was my fault," T-dog interfered. "I dropped the key."

Daryl glared at him. "You couldn't pick it up?" He sneered and the other looked down guiltily.

"It went down the drain."

The hunter paced cagily, then covered his eyes, shoulders trembling. Rick's heart broke.

"To hell with y'all!" He yelled voice cracking and Rick swallowed thickly, jumping back as the hunter snarled and threw a rope of squirrels at him then lunged. Before he could reach him, Shane tackled him to the ground and had him in a chokehold.

Something akin to panic flashed in the man's eyes, his body tense as he struggled to get free. His skin paled to an ashen color but he fought not to let the panic take hold and Rick found himself amazed, when the man spoke. There wasn't a trace of panic or fear, only anger and indignation.

"Chokeholdin's illegal." He snapped and Shane smirked.

"File a complaint." He sneered and Daryl let out a wordless snarl, struggling harder and more vicious against Shane, who seemed to be straining to hold on to him.

Around them, the other members of the group watched, and Rick felt a small trickle of disgust for them. The man was grieving and he was lashing out just any of them would have. So why were they making it seem like he was being irrational.

"Hey," He called gently, drawing the man's attention.

"He'll let you go, _if_ you listen to us rationally. Can you do that?"

Daryl relaxed in Shane's hold for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah."

Rick nodded and gestured for Shane to release the man. The older male did so with a sneer on his lips, but it went ignored as he went about placating the agitated hunter. Ten minutes later, he found himself in a van with said hunter and a few others, praying that Merle Dixon was alive. If he wasn't, Rick had a feeling that they would be discovering just how dangerous the younger Dixon could be.

 **TBC…**


	10. Fine Again TW (Secret Marriage)

**Summary: Stiles has been hiding a few very important secrets from everyone around him. When tragedy strikes him under their noses, they start to discover just how much they don't know.**

 **Warnings: StilesxOC; Past-one-sided Sterek; Slash; Het; Mpreg; Domestic violence; Neglectful! Pack; Neglectful! Sheriff; Spoilers; Nogitsune Trauma; Mangled Timeline**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

He was sixteen when he first met Ares Cisneros.

It was just after he and Derek had discovered that Peter was the alpha. He had argued with the wolf, already feeling terrible about getting his dad drunk and, of course, because they were both emotionally stunted, things that shouldn't have been said were snarled. Insecurities were brought into the open and he was left feeling rawer than he'd ever felt. Somehow, that had led to him making an hour drive into Beacon County to get drunk.

The jungle, like most other bars in Beacon Hills knew better than to supply him alcohol, he was the Sheriff's kid for fuck sake, but Beacon County's, The Pit had no such restrictions. There, he was an unknown. Just another face, and he loved it. It made him feel free.

At The Pit, there were no werewolves or whatever the fuck else, just Stiles and his drink.

Heaven.

So entranced by the freedom, the relief coursing through him, he didn't notice he'd been approached until a smooth dark voice spoke beside him.

"Let me buy you a drink, beautiful."

He tensed and spun to face the newcomer only to squeak and blush furiously.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

The man was tall, bronze skin stretched tight over bulging muscle, his arms bigger than even Derek's thick ones, and his eyes were a deep hazel brown flecked with green, the color of summer grass and the whiskey in his glass. Waves of dark hair were pulled back into a careless tail, strands escaping to frame his dangerously handsome face and a neat goatee surrounded thin kissable lips. This man was hot. He was dangerous. He was so irrevocably human. And he was talking…to Stiles.

Clumsy, skinny, defenseless…Stiles.

Was this a trick?

A warm callous hand cupped his cheek and he flushed, realizing that the man was still awaiting a response.

"I-uh yes?"

Ares smiled and flagged down the bartender.

* * *

From there, things progressed.

They began meeting at The Pit every weekend, talking and drinking, just enjoying each other's company. Each time, Ares would by him his first drink with an easy smile and a compliment that would leave him blushing like a fair maiden in the renaissance. It was an easy routine and it made everything he was dealing with, with Scott and the pack easier to handle.

Ares didn't ask him about monsters, nor did he slam him into walls and snarl in his face. Instead he was interested in _Stiles_. He wanted to know who Stiles was as a person. He asked about Stiles favorite color and his hobbies. He asked about Stiles' dreams and shared his own in return. It was a novel feeling after spending so long being forced into the background. And if Stiles looked like he didn't want to talk, he talked for him.

There no expectations, no pressure and Stiles found himself unsurprised when he noticed that he was falling in love.

Ares was everything he'd ever pictured in his perfect prince charming from his dry wit to his killer smile and what's more, he actually wanted _Stiles_. It seemed too good to be true...but he never wanted it to end so he kept his feelings to himself.

Or at least he had planned to.

A year after they met, Gérard Argent happened, leading to Stiles coming to The Pit bruised and battered. Ares had been furious and worried all at once when he saw the bruises and when Stiles tried to feed him the same lie he'd told his father, the man had given him a sad stare.

"Don't lie to me, Stiles. Please, just tell me who hurt you."

He wanted to lie, to turn away from those piercing honest eyes but for some reason he couldn't. The story spilled from his lips unbidden from his father getting the call about Laura's body to Scott getting bit. He told him about how he'd felt as everything was happening, and about Peter's offer in the garage and how afraid he was of losing his father to all of the supernatural in his life. He told him about the kanima and his father's suspension, about feeling like a disappointment to his father, and the guilt he felt for lying and lying and _lying_. He told him everything, ending with his beating at the hand of Gerard and how he'd found himself wondering if everything would've been better if he died in that basement. He even told him about the few times he'd slept with Derek and how the Alpha always left him feeling used and heartbroken.

Throughout it all, Ares listened to him, his eyes darkening with every word that left Stiles lips and he wanted to cry.

His heart was clenching in his chest and he just wanted the words to stop, so that he wouldn't lose his only friend. The person he was quickly falling in love with. His rock.

If Ares left him, after everything else that had happened...it would shatter him.

When he finally finished, Ares stood and he closed his eyes, unable to watch the man walk away, only to jolt as a gentle hand cupped his cheeks.

"Open your eyes, cariño."

He shook his head, but his eyes slid open all the same, burning as tears threatened to spill over. Hazel green eyes stared back him, warm and soft full of something that made his cheeks heat up.

More so, Ares was smiling at him, sad and proud all at the same time and he...he was lost.

The tears he'd been trying so hard to keep back spilled over and a near-silent sob left his lips and he gasped as the hands on his face moved away, strong arms pulling him into a warm embrace.

"Let it out. Sh, I'm here." His friend rumbled soothingly. "I'm here."

All the pain, and guilt, and fear left him in a rush of silent sobs as he finally allowed himself to break, awed at the man holding him.

It had been so long since he'd let someone comfort him, and tell him everything was alright. Normally it was his job to take care of everyone else, to be in the opposing role for once felt...liberating.

He sobbed until his tears ran dry and his voice was hoarse, Ares keeping up a steady litany of sweet words and stroking his back as he let out everything that had been bottled up since his introduction into the supernatural world and perhaps even before then. When he finished, he pulled away physically and emotionally exhausted, flushing slightly in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I-"

He was cut off by a pair of lips brushing his gently.

"I did not mind." Ares whispered, cupping his bruised cheek tenderly. "Stiles, after everything you just told me, it's obvious that you needed someone to listen. Someone who wouldn't judge and I don't mind being that person. You've been so brave and strong, let someone else be strong for you for a change."

He swallowed thickly, blush deepening at the softly spoken words, and he looked away trying to deflect them so he wouldn't get hurt.

"You sounded like you were trying to date me for a second." Sarcasm, always was his best defense, But Ares forced him to meet his gaze, hazel green eyes serious.

"And if I was?"

"I ca-you can't. You're so, well _you_ and I'm just-"

"Beautiful, funny, sarcastic, wonderful, insightful, intelligent-"

"I'm not-"

"Gorgeous, blunt, witty, sweet, kind, gentle-"

"Ares, I'm not-"

He was kissed again. Just a brief brush of lips and yet it silenced him immediately.

When Ares pulled away, he gave him a stern glare. "If you have a valid reason for us not to date other than your own lack of self-worth, I will stop. But Stiles, I like you. Hell, it's quickly becoming the other l-word and if you don't feel the same way, please tell me. But I refuse to let you deny yourself the happiness you deserve. Hale was wrong to make you feel the way you did. I will not make the same mistake."

Stiles blushed, his heart pounding in his chest. As all the reasons they shouldn't do this flashed through his mind, the main one being that there was a seven-year age difference between them but he couldn't find it in himself to deny himself this.

"I-okay."

Ares eyes lit up. "Yeah?"

He smiled. "Yeah."

His heart soared at the smile he got from the older man and when they kissed, well no one had to know he melted.

* * *

None of the pack noticed the change.

He expected it from Derek and his pups. They were still working through their own issues and while they like to keep him involved for research purposes, none of them went out of their way to actually get to know him.

Erica and Boyd had pulled him aside and assured him that they hadn't told Derek about Gerard, something he'd begged them to keep to themselves, and he'd thanked them. But afterwards, they were pulled away by Derek and that was that.

Lydia, at the very least should've noticed especially with how he was pretending to moon over her anymore but she and Jackson were so focused on helping the new werewolf heal from the Kanima mess that he'd slipped under their radar.

Not even his dad and Scott noticed, the latter overloaded at work in the aftermath of the Kanima's attack on the station and the murders it committed, while the former couldn't be bothered to look up from his little Romeo and Juliet romance with Allison.

Only two people noticed.

The first was Deaton, who he'd started meeting with the help train his spark. He'd approached the druid the night after he'd told Ares everything, hoping the man could help him train his 'spark' so that he wouldn't feel so useless and defenseless. To his surprise, the vet had merely smiled and agreed, then congratulated him on his new relationship. When asked how he knew, the druid had answered that it was the first time he'd seen him give a genuine smile. It almost startled him that the man knew him well enough to tell the difference. All the same he'd accepted the congratulations with a smile.

The other was Melissa McCall. She'd cornered him when he'd brought her some of his homemade lasagna, knowing it was her favorite when she came for dinner.

She'd taken one look at him and smiled.

"So, who is he?"

"W-what?" He whispered startled, his cheeks flushing and her smile widened.

"Oh, honey. You have the same look in your eyes that your mother had when she first married your father."

His blush deepened. "I- how did you know it was a he?"  
She chuckled. "Sweetheart, the only girl I've ever seen you look twice at is Lydia Martin. Even then, I have seen the looks you used to give Danny and recently Derek."

Smiling shyly, he ducked his head. "His names Ares. He's-" He sighed softly, looking up at her with the softest smile she'd ever seen on his face. "He's amazing."

"Older?"

He nodded hesitantly. "Good, no one your age can keep up with you. Just be careful, alright?"

He nodded again. "Dad doesn't know yet."

She shook her head. "Figured. Are you going to tell him?"

He hesitated.

"I think I want to see where me and Ares are going first."

Melissa smiled and kissed his forehead.

"Alright. Don't keep it from him too long, alright? And bring him around sometime, I'd love to meet him."

Nodding he bid her goodbye and left the hospital.

* * *

For the rest of the school year and even the summer, he focused on his relationship with Ares and strengthening his magic, trying not to focus on the hurt he felt when the pack continued to ignore him beyond the Monster of the week.

During this time, he discovered something that both scared him and excited him.

He was pregnant.

Deaton had told him that it was his magic's way of granting his innermost desire, which was to never be alone. He informed him that because of his magic, he would only be pregnant for six months instead if the standard nine or ten, and that while it was rare, he'd seen it once before and would be able to help him.

Ares was so excited, he'd called his mother immediately to tell her the good news. Stiles called his dad only to get his voicemail. He told him they needed to talk and that it was important.

He never got a response.

Ares proposed to him the next day.

He told Melissa, who was happy for him, although she told him she wished he'd waited until he was finished with school. And Deaton, whose stoic facade fell so that he could smile and genuinely congratulate him.

They got married the week before junior year started after only seven months of officiallydating, only Deaton and Melissa bothered showed up on his side, while Ares' mother, Katerina and younger sister, Esmeralda showed up.

No one else even noticed he was with someone, let alone _happy_.

It hurt.

When Melissa asked if his dad knew about Ares and the baby, he couldn't bring himself to lie.

He'd tried so hard to tell his dad about this amazing new part of his life, but the man was barely ever home and when he was he went straight to bed and was gone by the time he got up for school. He hadn't even noticed that Stiles barely slept at home anymore.

He cried himself to sleep that night in his new husband's arms.

He had Deaton teach him concealment spells for his scent and his ever-growing abdomen. The druid did so, teaching him the least taxing ones as well as creating a pendant that would protect his unborn child while he was helping the pack with whatever monster attacked Beacon Hills. Junior year started, and with it came the Alpha Pack and the Darach. He was running himself into the ground with stress and training, even as Ares and he fought about it repeatedly. Melissa and Deaton try to get him to slow down and he tried to get them to realize that he truly couldn't. It wasn't even an option, not with enemies closing in on two fronts.

He used his magic to keep up his glamours as he found himself once again knee-deep in the pack meetings and research, as well as his pregnancy and marriage.

He couldn't even say he was surprised he went into labor early.

Bayzli Aiolos Cisneros came into the world at Deaton's clinic, a week before school let out for winter break. Deaton, Ares, Melissa, Katerina and Esmeralda were all present.

When he let out his first cry, Stiles burst into tears of bittersweet happiness. His son was alive and in his arms, but his family would never see it. His father was so wrapped up in work he barely noticed him anymore and his mother was gone. Melissa was there though and while it didn't make his father's glaring absence any less noticeable, it lessened the pain just a little bit.

It also weighed on his heart because hiding the supernatural from his father was hard enough and while he knew it was only partially his own fault his father didn't know about Ares and Bayzli, it hurt to be keeping yet another secret from the man.

Deaton and Melissa gave him week of bed rest.

Two days later the Darach took his father.

She took Melissa.

And Allison's father.

And suddenly bed rest was no longer an option.

He found himself in a tub of iced water, Allison and Scott on either side of him in their own iced baths, and he hoped Ares would forgive him for leaving him and their son alone.

Deaton gave him a sad look, and then Lydia was pushing him under.

' _I'm so sorry, Bayzli. Looks like mommy won't see you grow after all.'_

He thought, clutching his own father's badge tightly.

' _Please forgive me, Ares. Please.'_

 **TBC...**

* * *

 **Bayzli (polish)** \- King

 **Aiolos (Greek) –** Quick-thinker, swift

 **Why-** I see Stiles as someone that would want to honor his mother's polish heritage while at the same time not wanting to overwhelm his child with his own mouthful of a name. Also, I liked the name. ( **Bayzli** ) In addition, Ares is a Grecian god of war and so I can see Stiles as wanting to honor that by giving him a name of the same origin. ( **Aiolos** )

 **About Ares:** Ares Cisneros is half Greek, half Spanish but leans more toward Spanish coloring and culture due to growing up in Spain.

Birthday: April 18th

 **Ages:**

Beginning:

-Stiles: 16

-Ares: 23

-Derek: 22

*Stiles is 17 when he and Ares start dating


	11. YJ Time Travel: From Yesterday

**Summary: The Justice League has fallen and the League of Owls have teamed up with The Light and taken over the world. Young Justice is no more, its members shattered by the deaths of their mentors. With no other choice they go back in time to try to prevent the horrible future they live in.**

 **Pairings: BirdFlashArrow; SuperBoy/M'gann; Artemis/Kaldur**

 **Warnings: Violence; Language; Slash; Het; Threesome; DaddyBats; Broken! Slightly psychotic! Dark-but not evil! Young Justice team; OOC! ness; Time Travel; AU-Canon Divergence; Past! Torture; Spoilers**

 **Prologue**

The League had fallen.

The Justice League, each and every member, had been slaughtered mercilessly and their bodies had been sent to them in pieces.

Even now, almost five years later he could still remember the haunting screams of Megan and Artemis, could still hear Wally and Kaldur's whispered denials and his own broken sobs. But worst of all, he could still remember the shrill, blood chilling scream that had left Robin upon finding both Batman and Agent A lying in dismemberment side by side. The three older bat brothers lay in separate piles around the two, their heads being the only thing identifying which piles where who and their faces frozen in horror. He could remember how only moments later Robin had completely shut down. The little bird's entire expression had gone eerily blank and he had collapsed to his knees beside the broken bodies of his family and gone utterly still.

It had taken almost four hours to convince their youngest to move. It had taken another three before he allowed the bodies to be taken away. He was never the same afterwards.

None of them were.

He glanced at the other six people in the room, regret and anguish warring with the pride in his heart.

They were broken but they weren't giving up.

All of them were broken, mentally shattered by the hell they lived in... but maybe they could change that.

Kaldur took his place in front of them, then cleared his throat to draw their attention. He had mellowed throughout the years and was often the most level headed person on their team. He wore a form-fitting black armor made of some type of flexible steel that Robin had created in his days of isolation following Batman's death. Glowing blue designs danced across the surface forming ancient Atlantian Runes for protection and good health. His once short blond hair fell to the top of his ears in a curled mess, contrasting his dark skin and pale eyes.

"Flash, Nightwing, how far along are you on your project?"

The former sighed, and the latter cackled softly.

"It is done." Flash answered and Roy smiled grimly at the weariness in his lover's voice.

Gone was the Happy-go-lucky Kid Flash and in his place stood The Flash, nicknamed Blood lightning by the public. His spandex suit was black and lined in a thin crimson armor and clung to his lean 6'6 frame like a second skin. His cowl was pulled back to reveal his cropped red hair and dark emerald eyes.

Beside him stood their other lover, Nightwing. He was the shortest of them all, standing at 5'8 with long raven hair tied back in a strict braided bun, lithe slender frame clad in black kevlar matching his obsidian painted lips. A silver bird with outstretched wings was displayed on his chest, a black utility belt cinching his narrow waist and a black domino mask hid his eyes from the world. Eyes that Roy knew glittered with a controlled madness.

Artemis frowned at them. "What project?"

The arrow mistress had changed as well, nicknamed Bloodrayne by the public due to her ruthless ambition and her drive for vengeance. Her long blond hair was cut short, cropped in a skater type fashion, and her once green outfit was now as bloody a crimson as his own and consisted of a kevlar bustier, soft tight leather pants, and a pair of black steel toed shit-kicker boots. The young woman had calmed since marrying Kaldur but the only ones that actually saw the Real her were the Team. Everyone else got Bloodrayne, her vicious, sadistic alter ego.

Kaldur spoke again.

" Nightwing came to me with a solution on how to save our mentors and end The Legion."

Everyone turned to their resident genius who merely smiled his favorite little off-kilter smile.

"Our Mentors are dead." M'gann monotoned and Roy winced.

Miss Martian had changed drastically with the death of her uncle. She became cold and vicious and the only two people she ever showed any affection were Nightwing, who she saw as someone to protect, and Conner, her husband. She wore a black kevlar qipao that clung to her vivacious figure and a blood red cape, her long scarlet hair falling to her waist in thick ringlets. Conner sat beside her, dark cobalt eyes curious even as he soothed her. His attire hadn't changed much but the S on his chest had black vines creeping through it signifying his fading morals.

"She's right." He commented, his deep baritone ringing throughout the room even without his speaking loud.

Nightwing shifted in agitation then a wide smile stole across his painted lips.

"Time travel."

Roy looked between his lovers dubiously.

"Time travel?"

Wally nodded. "Birdy and I have managed to create a serum made of nanobots and chronium, the element used in the Sands of Time, that will send us back in time. We will still have our memories and our abilities, but our present bodies and our past bodies will merge, with our past bodies taking on a few of the defining features of our current bodies, like Dickie's hair, etc."

Everyone stared at the two in awe.

"That's brilliant." M'gann breathed and Nightwing spoke.

"There are two major side effects that each of you need to be aware of. All of your scars from your current body will appear on the form you take in the past, including your mental ones. The insanity, the shards we wear so well will travel with us, however the serum voids all medication for forty-eight hours. Mixing it with meds can be deadly. In otherwords, for forty-eight hours after we take the serum, we will all be off our meds."

Everyone nodded slightly hesitant. Each of them were taking meds for different things. If they were unable to take them they were liable to be more volatile and protective of each other. It would be hell hiding it from their mentors.

He paused and removed his mask, piercing blue eyes surveying them all.

"The second is that this is permanent. Once we travel to the past this future will cease to exist. The only proof of it will be our memories. Once we reach past...it will become our present."

They each nodded, thinking carefully one what he had said.

"Where in the past are we landing?" Kaldur asked.

Wally shrugged. "It won't be exact, but I do know we will all arrive at the exact same time."

Artemis smiled, and Roy watched as hope shined in his family's eyes for the first time in years.

"When do we start?"

Wally held up a tray holding seven vials with a transparent tan liquid in them.

"Anytime you're ready."

 **TBC...**

 **A/N: Chronium is not a real element to my knowledge. However, in this instance it is an element used in the sands of time to help them stay aligned with the time-stream.**


	12. YJKuroshitsuji Robin Is Ciel

**Series Summary: Unrelated stories about The Queen's GuardDog being reincarnated into five of the unlikeliest people.**

 **Book Three: Richard Grayson**

 **Kuroshitsuji/YJ x-over**

 **Summary: The dreams started only days after his parents' deaths. Now years later, the reemergence of a certain demon brings about changes he never expected.**

 **Warnings: Canonical violence/implied noncon; Yaoi; Reincarnation; Demons Angels; OOC! ness; Canon Divergence; spoilers; AU**

 **Pairings: Undecided**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

The dreams began shortly after his parents' deaths.

He dreamt of happiness and warmth, ripped away at the hands of an insane angel and the one woman he'd been taught to never betray. Of fire and ash, the cloying taste of smoke and salt in his mouth as he screamed and pleaded for them to _just wake up_. He dreamed of daggers, sharp and deadly, piercing his flesh - _please let me go Stop!_ Of pain and humiliation, and cold cruel hands. Of crimson eyes, a smooth voice and salvation. _Kill them- Yes, my lord._

It made the three months in juvie a living hell.

The older kids jeered and laughed at him, alerted by his screams and cries. They beat him up until he learned to keep silent as he slept…and until he started to fight back. He used the devious mind of the boy in his dreams to fight, to get away. It was only after he was taken in by Bruce that he hid it all beneath his grief.

Even after leaving juvie, the dreams continued, vivid and life like…almost like memories. During the day, he was Dick Grayson, the ward of Bruce Wayne. He went to school and did homework, behaving like a normal child. At night, he was Robin, batman's young protégé. He patrolled Gotham with his mentor, fighting bad guys and the like. But when he dreamt?

When he slept, he was the GuardDog.

He was the broken child that summoned a demon and took over the Underworld in less than a month. He was the ill-fated king in life's grand game of chess. He was alone in a world where he was surrounded. Alone all except for the one being that wouldn't, couldn't betray him.

Slowly, almost unnoticeably, the boy's mannerisms started to leak into his own, merging with them to form something else entirely. He stood straighter, not arrogantly so, just enough that it was known when he was in charge. His intellect, already extremely high for his age, sharpened and becoming finer tuned. He became more playful, although his games seemed to grow darker and darker. Most importantly, his asthma returned.

For the most part, he ignored these changes, passing them off as his mind's attempt at mimicry. It was only after the seal for the contract reappeared in his left eye that everything fell into place, the merge fully complete.

He was Ciel Phantomhive…and it was time to get back in the game.

* * *

Alfred frowned worriedly as his youngest master walked downstairs, his gaze instantly locking on to the eyepatch covering the child's left eye.

"Master Richard, whatever has happened to your eye?"

The teen jolted then turned to him with an easy smile.

"It's nothing, Alf." He replied. "Just a failed experiment with Wally. Some of the chemicals hit my eye."

The elderly butler frowned deeper, sensing the lie, but before he could question the boy, he grabbed a scone from the tray near the stove and left the room.

Alfred's suspicions worsened.

Master Richard hated scones.

* * *

His ring.

It was here, lying innocently on his bed, as if it had never left his side. There was no note, no indication of anyone entering his room and yet he knew exactly who had left it.

He smiled and slid the ring onto his thumb, feeling a tension he didn't know he had leave his shoulders as he watched the blue diamond gleam in the light. A shadow shifted to his right and he was suddenly aware that he was not alone in his room. He fought back a smile at the comfort it brought.

"I trust you have informed the Queen of my return?" He murmured and felt the answering smirk even though he couldn't see it.

"Of course, my Lord. She is also aware of your life as this…vigilante and has asked me to tell you she will write soon."

He nodded, tilting his head as he heard Alfred's soft footsteps approaching.

"Leave. Don't return until I call for you."

"And your orders?"

He sent a glare in the demon's direction, the contract glowing vividly in his uncovered eye.

"Do as you wish until I call for you but do not draw attention to yourself." He paused. "Reestablish Funtom. It may be useful in the future."

"Yes, bocchan." His butler responded, then his presence vanished.

Sighing, the teen slid into his bed and closed his eyes, knowing that once he awakened, he would have to play the role of innocent Dick Grayson once more.

Moments later, when Alfred entered his room, he was fast asleep.

 **TBC…**


	13. A Dragon in Wolf Skin GOTAvengers

**A/N: Welcome to another one of my completely unorthodox crossovers.** **Warning!** **The main character is a woman reincarnated as a male. In addition, there is one other character that is a male reincarnated as a female. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ! This is your** **ONLY** **warning.**

 **Summary: When Tony nearly dies in Siberia, Lady Hela saves him by awakening his past life, as well as the magics hidden in his blood. Unaware of this fact, Pepper orders the use of Extremis and the results are extraordinary. Alive again and more powerful than ever, the dragon sets out to change the world as (s)he did once before.**

 **Pairing: Tony Stark (** _Daenerys Targaryen_ **)/ Khal Drogo**

 **TW: Mentions/referenced Stillbirth; PTSD; Past/referenced Torture; Past child death; AU; SLASH; HET; Good! Loki; Not Team Cap Friendly; Referenced/Implied Suicide; Extremis; Not S6-7 compliant GoT; SPOILERS**

 **Disclaimer: Don't Own MCU or Game of Thrones. All rights belong to proper owners.**

" _ **Tony"-**_ Tony's Memories

" _Dany" –_ Daenerys's memories

" **Khal"-** Dothraki language

"Dracarys" -Old Valyrian

* * *

 **Chapter I**

Something in him wished that he was afraid.

It wished he would fight, that fear would drive him away from death's grasp…but it couldn't because he wasn't afraid.

His body had long since stopped shivering, no longer trying to get warm as his lips turned blue. The cold sucked the warmth from his veins but it didn't hurt, it wasn't frightening. The only thing he felt…was betrayal.

The Avengers had forsaken him, after so long of him believing that they were his family. All the time he spent trying to become a better person, someone they wouldn't mind at their backs or in their life. He'd stopped drinking, even when all he wanted was to drown the pain of Pepper leaving him in a bottle. He'd stopped sleeping around before him and Pepper and hadn't bothered to go back to it when she left him. He done everything he possibly could to get them to accept him, going as far as paying for every cent of damage caused both by Ultron and Cap's quest to find Bucky.

Cap.

 _Steve_.

Steve had been his role model, someone he'd looked up to and _trusted_ even after their rocky start on the Helicarrier and he'd betrayed him. _Lied_ to him. After everything he'd said about not keeping secrets, he'd kept something like this from him. But he was irrational for reacting? For hurting?

They'd lied to him. Tried to break him.

Left him behind.

Even death's comforting approach couldn't soothe the pain they'd left behind.

A quiet, hoarse laugh left his throat, jostling his broken body and he gasped, coughing up an alarming amount of blood. It speckled its way across his lips freezing and congealing as it made contact with the dry air around him.

So, this was how his story ended?

Lying broken and abandoned in the base of one of the worst organizations in the world, in the middle of a frozen wasteland.

How fitting.

What better way to die, than as a villain slain by America's mightiest hero and his ever-faithful best friend?

The air rippled briefly before a gentle hand cupped his cheek and he found himself gazing into the sad emerald eyes of the one being who'd been at his side since the beginning. He gave her a broken smile she returned it with a mournful one of her own.

"Hello, Milady."

"Oh, what have they done to you, my beautiful merchant?" She breathed, thumb stroking his cheek. He leaned into her touch despite the agony it caused.

"Nothing I didn't deserve."

The goddess shook her head, midnight hair brushing his face at the motion.

"You didn't deserve this, my chosen. But I am not here to argue with this with you. I am here to give back to you what you've lost."

He frowned, wanting to ask what she was talking about but darkness was encroaching upon his vision stealing both his sight and his breath. She smiled, ever gentle, and kissed his forehead.

"You must wake up, Khaleesi. Only fire and blood can save you."

His eyes fell closed and a strange, but soothing heat began to curl around his heart before making its way through his body.

"Times are changing and war rests on the horizon. Your people need you. Awaken Daenerys Stormborn, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. Queen of the seven Kingdoms. Mother of Dragons. He is coming, and you must be ready."

He gasped as the heat intensified. Then, the darkness overtook his vision and he was bombarded by memories that were ( _weren't_ ) his ( _her_ ) own.

* * *

 _Their home was gone._

 _She knew she should've been too young to remember but the smell of blood and smoke was cloying in her throat. Their mother's screams rang in her ears, melding with the sounds of steel meeting steel and Viserys frightened sobs._

 _Everyone told her that her mother died in childbirth. Viserys looked at her with loathing and told her she'd killed them, all the while striking her until her skin was covered in flowering bruises._

 _She bore it with a silent grace, because how could she tell them the truth._

 _How could she tell them that she could see through their lies, especially when she wasn't supposed to remember?_

 _She couldn't._

* * *

 _ **Howard was angry with him.**_

 _ **He should've expected it.**_

 _ **In his four years of life, he'd never seen his father smile in his direction. Never heard a word of warmth from him despite wishing otherwise.**_

 _ **He curled into a ball, trying to silence the sobs leaving his lips.**_

 _ **Stark men didn't cry.**_

 _ **Stark men were made of iron.**_

 _ **He didn't dare to tell his father that iron could rust.**_

 _ **His body wouldn't survive the beating he'd receive if he did.**_

* * *

 _He was going to sell her._

 _She stared up at her brother terrified as he whispered in her ear, speaking of the Khal she was to wed. The man had just ridden away from them after riding around her and inspecting her like she was a piece of meat at the market._

 _She was as indignant as she was terrified._

 _And she was very much that._

 _Khal Drogo scared her much more than Viserys ever had._

 _Whereas Viserys was lean and slender due to the malnourishment of their childhood, the Khal was tall with arms as powerful as the stallion he sat astride. His entire being spoke of brute strength and she couldn't help but fear what would happen should he turn that strength on her._

 _She was led inside to prepare for her wedding, her brother's warning echoing in her mind. Once alone, she let out a quiet sob and wrapped her arms around herself in a shameful parody of a hug. In that moment, she wished to be anywhere but where she was._

* * *

 _ **Mother was warm.**_

 _ **She held him when he couldn't bring himself to be iron, and sang to him when he released his tears into the shoulders of her favorite dress.**_

 _ **Her eyes, a warm chocolate brown, were so similar yet so different from his own, but he loved her all the same. She didn't hit him, and though she couldn't stop Howard from doing so, he saw the bruises on her skin that showed him that she'd tried anyway.**_

 _ **Curling closer to her, he nuzzled throat, smiling when she chuckled at the action.**_

" _ **Tell me a story, mama." He pleaded and she hummed.**_

" _ **What do you want to here, bambino?"**_

" _ **Tell me about the lions! The story about the lions and the wolves!"**_

" _ **And the dragons?" She asked knowingly. His eyes lit up and she gave him a wry grin.**_

" _ **Alright. Once there was a king, he was a mad man with dragon fire in his eyes and its rage in his heart. His reign was a long one, but it was not a just reign for he was not a kind man. His people lived in fear of his wrath, but none more so than his family. His wife, a once strong dragoness, was a meek, submissive creature terrified of his might. His eldest son, a regal man, had died in battle with the bears over a misconception that would not be discovered until decades after his death. His youngest son was, like his mother, terrified of his father's wrath but simmering beneath the surface was the madness of their family. Then there was his daughter-"**_

" _ **The Dragon Mother!" He interrupted sleepily, fighting his hardest not to close his eyes. He didn't want to miss his favorite story.**_

 _ **She chuckled. "Yes, the dragon mother. The Stormborn, she was prophesied to change the world and she did. You see, within the kingsguard discord was starting to grow and rebellion was coming. A lion, a wolf, and stag led the charge. The lion, the king's most trusted, slaughtered the king and his wife, while their children were spared to be sold into slavery but were smuggled out of the city before such a thing could happen..."**_

 _ **The six-year-old yawned, eyes sliding closed against his will and the rest of the story vanished into white noise as he slipped into the sweet realm of Morpheus.**_

 _ **That's okay, he knew the whole story by heart anyway.**_

* * *

 _Their wedding was a grand affair._

 _Around them, the members of the khalasar danced and fought, their movements powerful and sensual, savage and brutal._

 _Beside her, her new husband sat watching the fight going on with a keen interest, sparing the people dropping off wedding gifts barely a glance. Her brother stood off to the side, conversing with the only other Westerosi man there, Jorah Mormont, who had been assigned to teach her the ways of the Dothraki. She could distantly hear him speaking about the traditions of the people she'd been bound to and she fought not to sigh, sitting up as Illyrio stepped forward carrying a chest. Something about the gift called to her and she barely noticed the Khal's attention shifting to her, or that Illyrio was speaking._

 _It all paled in comparison to the three objects within the case._

 _Dragon eggs._

 _Illyrio was still speaking, something about the eggs being turned to stone with age, but despite his words she could sense the warmth within them, a soft pulsing heat that spoke of life, they were alive and she ached to tell all who doubted it, yet like always she said nothing. Instead she nodded and reluctantly set the treasures aside._

 _The fight had escalated in the absence of her attention and she nearly flinched as the losing man was slaughtered and debraided by his opponent. Her husband watched it all with amusement in his dark eyes and she looked away, wondering if she would ever come to love him._

 _Probably not._

 _More gifts came, jewelry, snakes, a set of books she was dying to read, but she never forgot the eggs beside her. She was hyper aware of their presence, and she almost missed when the Khal stood and started to walk away from the platform._

 _She followed, belated realizing she was to do so, and gasped as they came to a stop beside two beautiful stallions. One was the large black one she'd remembered him riding the day before, its fur as dark as the night sky. The other was a few hands smaller, but no less beautiful its coat a pale moonlit white, while its mane and tail were a few shades lighter than her own._

 _Drogo stepped up beside the latter, gesturing to it with a large callous hand. Ser Jorah stepped forward._

" _It is his gift to you, Khaleesi."_

 _She smiled, feeling something in her begin to soften just the slightest bit._

" _It is beautiful." She turned to the andal man. "What is the Dothraki word for thank you."_

 _He chuckled lightly. "There is no Dothraki word for thank you."_

 _She looked back at her husband, who seemed to understand her regardless for he gently lifted her by her waist and placed her upon the stallion's back, as if she were but a small child. Sending her a small smirk, he spoke a few words to their audience and mounted his own steed to lead them away._

 _She gulped, knowing what was coming._

 _Hopefully he would be gentle with her._

* * *

 _ **They were sending him away.**_

 _ **He turned pleading eyes on his mother, who looked away her dark eyes tearful. A dark bruise marred her pale cheeks and he ached to know that it was his fault it was there.**_

 _ **His and Howard's.**_

 _ **The man looked satisfied for once in his life, his gaze cold and calculating as he told Tony the news. Jarvis looked unbearably sad, his wise blue eyes watching them all with the pain of a heartbroken patriarch.**_

 _ **Seeing that he wouldn't be saved, he turned to the woman beside him, his beautiful aunt Peggy, and nodded slowly.**_

 _ **Looks like he was going to boarding school.**_

 _ **As he walked out the door, he felt relief and pain course through him. He would miss his mother, and the Jarvis family, but he never wanted to see Howard or his mansion again.**_

* * *

 _Her life amongst the Dothraki was…different._

 _She was gifted with three handmaidens Jhiqui, Irri, and Doreah. Of them all, Doreah was her favorite, treating her kinder than the other Dothraki women who lamented the fact their Khal had married a "pale-skinned foreigner"._

 _They whispered in the darkness that she was weak, that if they could they would kill her, prove their worth to the Khal. She had picked up the Dothraki language very quickly and she understood every word they spoke but she said nothing, biding her time. She was a dragon, and dragons were patient agile hunters. They would learn their lesson in time._

 _Still, Doreah had helped her immensely, showing her how to please her Khal and in doing so ridding her of her fear of him. It gave her room to feel other things for the gruff but ultimately quiet man and she found herself falling harder and faster than she'd ever knew possible._

 _He held her and loved her, his demeanor seeming to soften when her fear of him finally disappeared. He even allowed her to start teaching him the common tongue in the privacy of their tent, something she'd thought impossible from the stories Jorah told her about him trying to do it._

 _The andal man had taken to teaching her during the day as her husband did his duties as Khal. He taught her Dothraki customs and, as far as he knew, the language as they rode toward the Vaes Dothrak. He even taught her to fight, stunned when she'd asked. The heat in Drogo's eyes when he caught her practicing in the early light and the night that followed still made her shiver._

 _Still, despite all the good, she'd noticed something dangerous building up in one of the Khalasar._

 _Viserys._

 _Her brother._

 _Fury built in his gaze the further they got from Westeros, the madness in his gaze slowly consuming him. She'd warned Drogo, who assured her he was watching the situation as well and asked her to stay alert in case he snapped._

 _She shuddered, focusing her thoughts on the half-eaten horse heart in her hands, the chants of the Dosh Khaleen ringing in her ears as her heart pounded in time with the drum beat._

 _She had to finish it._

 _Her son was not weak!_

 _Meeting her husband's gaze, drawing strength from the encouragement she saw there, she continued her battle to prove their son's worth._

 _She could feel him, their little prince, the great stallion he would eventually become and she forced herself to finish the last bite, even as it fought to return to the surface._

 _She retched, but caught herself before she failed this test of will, chewing and swallowing it before it could escape her._

 _As she stood she captured her husband's attention, taking in the pride and fire that burned within his dark eyes and the smile that played upon his lips._

" **A prince rides inside me,"** _She announced, shocking them with the fluency she'd spoken the gruttal language with._ **"And he shall be called Rhaego."**

 _The Khalasar roared their approval, her son's name chanted in celebration but she only had eyes for the man in front of her, who stood and lifted her into the air by her waist._

 _There was so much pride and love in his gaze that for once, she found herself wishing that the moment would never end._

* * *

 _ **He…hadn't expected this.**_

 _ **Bewildered brown eyes slid from the outstretched hand in front of him to the warm, gentle smile worn by its owner.**_

 _ **Two months had passed since he'd began his freshman year of college and in that time, he'd been beaten up more times than he could count. All of them assumed that because he was fourteen the only reason he was there was because of Howard.**_

 _ **Then, when it was discovered that he did deserve to be there they tried to bully him into doing their work for them or giving them money to bride the instructors, and beating him when he refused and leaving him to make his way home on his own.**_

 _ **This was the first time someone had offered to help him, even if they all saw it.**_

" _ **W-what do you want in return?" He asked resignedly, looking away.**_

 _ **He needed the help desperately, especially being sure that his right ankle was sprained, but he didn't want to take it. Didn't know if he could afford to.**_

 _ **Even if it came from his roommate, James Rhodes, who had barely spoken two words to him since they'd met.**_

 _ **Rhodes eyes softened instead of becoming guarded and defensive, and he felt something in his chest loosened.**_

" _ **How about my roommate to stop coming in looking like he's gone ten rounds with the business end of a baseball bat…and a friend?"**_

 _ **He stared at the man, seeing none of the greed he was used to, none of the incentive he'd seen in others offering to be his friend. Those who wanted a piece of Howard's money.**_

 _ **The eyes staring back him were warm, full of the same**_ **genuine** _ **concern he remembered seeing on Maria and the Jarvis couple. He saw compassion, and something stronger. He saw**_ **strength** _ **and resolve.**_

 _ **He saw a friend.**_

 _ **He smiled, even as his busted lip protested the act, and took the hand.**_

 _ **That day Rhodes became**_ **Rhodey.**

* * *

 _Viserys was dead._

 _Had theirs been the relationship of traditional siblings, she would feel grief at his passing,_ pain _, but as it was she felt…empty._

 _There was no joy, though she'd long thought that would be her reaction to such an event. No hatred, though that too was well warranted._

 _Only hours,_ minutes _previous, it had been the best night of her life. Her child was prophesied to be a great man, a stallion none could tame. The high of pride, of happiness had rushed through her, filling her with a euphoria she'd seldom felt before her Drogo. Before their Khalasar._

 _Viserys had taken that high from her, in his drunken blundering state, crashing their celebration with threats of ripping her growing babe from her womb. All for the notion of a crown their family had long since lost._

 _As if her child, his nephew, had meant nothing._

 _Staring down at his corpse, at the morbid gold crown forever lain atop his head, she felt a dark sense of amusement cutting through the emptiness._

 _Their entire life, her brother had preached of being the rightful heir of Westeros, preached of being a dragon as if he were the fierce beasts in human form. But he was wrong._

 _Dragons were strong, their very being made of the most hellish of fires. They would not have been killed in the manner Viserys had met his fate. It was the reason behind their house motto after all._

 _Fire could not kill a dragon._

 _The irony was beautiful._

* * *

 _ **It had to be a lie.**_

 _ **It had to be!**_

 _ **Haunted brown eyes stared at the telephone in their owner's hand, tears streaming unnoticed down his cheeks. A black graduation gown clad his small form, and only a few minutes previous he'd been hurt that his most important people had missed his shining moment.**_

 _ **Now, he would give anything to have them safe at home.**_

 _ **Howard had been driving drunk and crashed their car on the way to get to his graduation. He'd died automatically, and if he were the rest of the world, Tony would be mourning but he didn't care about Howard.**_

 _ **His mother, and Jarvis were dead.**_

 _ **Distantly, he felt gentle hands shaking him, leading him to sit on the couch.**_

 _ **They were dead.**_

 _ **The hands tried to pry the phone from his grip and he tightened his hold on it before letting go, a banshee's wail leaving his throat as the news finally processed completely.**_

 _ **They were dead.**_

 _ **He was all alone.**_

 _ **He wanted to join them too.**_

* * *

 _No._

 _NO!_

 _Why was this happening?_

 _Why?_

 _Her husband lay still, his dark eyes empty as he gazed up at the ceiling of their tent, and were it not for the steady rise of his chest she'd have thought him dead._

 _Dead like their beautiful Rhaego._

 _Dead like the priestess would be the moment her Drogo was sent away to join The Great Stallion in the Night Lands._

 _The bitch had stolen both the life of both her husband and her child, when all she'd done was offer her warmth and clemency. When she'd given her word to save one and had no reason to bother the other._

 _She would die screaming._

 _Cupping his cheek, she felt her heart shattering as she thought of what she would have to do._

 _Her sun and stars was a warrior, and lying there as the witch had cursed him was a disgrace to him. He was too dignified, too powerful to have to die lying on his back, helpless and trapped within himself._

 _It was left up to her to grant him release from such a thing…and there was only one way to do so._

 _She had to, but first, she tried to plead with him once more._

" **I know you are very far away, but come back to me, my sun and stars."**

 _He didn't respond, as she knew he wouldn't, and a broken sob left her throat as she rested her head above his heart one final time._

 _Just one more moment to enjoy his warmth._

 _It left a bittersweet taste on her lips._

" _When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, then you shall return to me, my sun and stars."_

 _Placing one last kiss on his lips, she tried to brace herself for what she was to do. A steadying breath did nothing for her as she picked up his favorite pillow and pressed it down over his face, crying in earnest as she did so._

 _When the body beneath her finally fell still…a part of her died with it._

 _And when the pyre was lit later that night, she joined her family on it, the witch's screams echoing through the crisp air._

 _It was only the birth of her dragons that made her not regret surviving._

* * *

 _ **He was wasting away.**_

 _ **He's drank so much since his mother's passing that he barely noticed the burn anymore and done so much drugs he barely knew when he was sober.**_

 _ **The worried gazes of Rhodey and Obie followed his every move, the worlds scolding after every ER trip but he heard none of it.**_

 _ **He picked up another bottle, another needle and started all over.**_

 _ **Anything not to feel.**_

* * *

 _Her people were starving. They were dying._

 _No one was listening._

 _Her promise was broken._

 _She wanted to scream._

* * *

 _ **He was clean now, fifteen months sober.**_

 _ **Rhodey's proud stare and Obie's warm words made it all worth it.**_

 _ **He smiled, looking down at the documents spread across his desk.**_

 _ **Stark Industries was his.**_

 _ **Time to start undoing Howard's damage.**_

* * *

 _Doreah betrayed her._

 _The pain of it is countered by a vindictive sense of satisfaction as she hears the woman begging as the vault door closes._

 _Behind her, the khalasar ravages the beautiful palace._

" **Take it all."** _Her husband's language rumbles its way from her lips as easy as breathing and she wonders if he'd be proud of her._

 _Still, allows her children to land on her shoulder, cuddling the other in her arms._

 _She would not be fooled by kindness again._

 _It only brought her pain._

* * *

 _ **He hadn't been paying attention to where he was going, which had ultimately led to this.**_

 _ **Fists and feet met his flesh over and over again in a vicious cycle and he felt something in his blood bristle at the show of dominance.**_

 _ **His mother called it his wolf but it was more than that.**_

 _ **It was something…more.**_

 _ **A kick landed against his temple and he gasped when dark spots danced in his vision. A shout sounded and he looked up weakly to see a heavily built man taking on all of his attackers and winning.**_

 _ **They began to flee and soon, all four of the men were gone, leaving him alone with his savior.**_

" _ **Who are you?"**_

 _ **The man smiled. "Names Harold. Harold Hogan."**_

 _ **He scrunched up his nose. "Nope. Not happening. Your name is Happy, because I so happy to see you."**_

 _ **The newly named Happy rolled his eyes.**_

" _ **And what makes you think I'll let you call me that."**_

" _ **Because you're my new bodyguard as of now, and all the cool kids get nicknames."**_

 _ **The man stared at him, then chuckled, offering him a hand off the ground. "Well, alright then. What's your name kid?"**_

" _ **Name's Tony Stark. See you at work Monday, Happy."**_

* * *

 _The Unsullied were hers._

 _Eight thousand ruthless former slaves and not a single one had decided to leave her._

 _Listening to Drogon's screech as he soared above them and the cheers of the people of Meereen, she had to wonder if this was what freedom felt like._

 _Mhysa, they called her._

 _Mother._

 _Unbidden a hand drifted to her stomach._

 _Crushing the grief that tried to rear its head, she plastered a gentle smile on her lips._

 _No it was just another chain._

 _Just another title._

* * *

" _ **Mr. Stark, I would like to speak with you about an error made in accounting."**_

 _ **He blinked, staring at the petite strawberry-blonde before him then at the two groaning security guards outside the door of his office.**_

" _ **Did you just mace my security?"**_

 _ **She paused then blushed.**_

" _ **Well, yes. They kept trying to stop me and this is a mistake that could cost you millions of dollars."**_

 _ **He smiled at her, knowing exactly what mistake she was talking about.**_

" _ **Where do you work, ma'am?"**_

" _ **The filing department."**_

" _ **Well, congratulations. You're being promoted because out of everyone that folder has gone through you're the only one to catch the error I put in it."**_

 _ **She blinked. "I'm sorry?"**_

 _ **He chuckled. "As of now you are my new personal assistant. Be sure to stop by tomorrow morning for a list of duties and the paperwork needed to cement the change."**_

 _ **He stood and started to leave.**_

" _ **What's your name?"**_

" _ **Virginia Potts, Mr. Stark."**_

" _ **Well, Pepper, why don't you take the rest of the day off so I can draft up the forms we need and meet me back here tomorrow."**_

" _ **But the mistake-"**_

" _ **Has already been corrected in the system."**_

* * *

 _They're kneeling before her._

 _All their Khals were burning in the building behind her and they were kneeling in front of her._

 _They were afraid of her._

 _Had she been the woman she was before, that timid girl that had been thrust into a marriage with a man she held no love for, the girl she was under her brother's rule, she would hate it._

 _As it stood, she was someone else now._

 _Stronger,_ darker _than she'd ever been, and they had dared to take her away from her children, her people, as if she had done them a personal wrong by not becoming a crone after Drogo's death._

 _As if she were wrong for becoming stronger._

 _They thought her powerless without her dragons, unaware that she was a dragon herself._

 _A dragon that shared the shape of man, but with fangs just as sharp and deadly as her beast counterpart._

 _Worse, she was a mother dragon, and they had separated her from her children._

 _Children who were already distressed._

 _They deserved to burn._

 _Jorah and Daario stepped forward, kneeling in front of the others._

 _Her most loyal._

 _Her favored._

 _She smiled._

" **You are mine, from this day forward. Betray me and you die, but ride with me,** _ **fight**_ **with me, and I shall guard your back as I would my own."**

 _The men roared their agreement, many having lived oppressed under their Khals and she felt warmth blooming in her chest._

' _Can you see it, my sun and stars? See how our Khalasar grows?'_

 _She hoped he could._

… _and she wished he'd been there with her._

* * *

 _ **Pain.**_

 _ **His every sense was alight with it and he could feel himself screaming even if the sound failed to reach his ears.**_

 _ **Hands dug around inside his chest and things that weren't supposed to leave his body were removed and he wished he had the cognizance to beg for death.**_

 _ **For mercy.**_

 _ **His nails ached as did his canines but it paled in comparison to the agony rocking his body.**_

 _ **When oblivion graced him, he could do nothing but thank any deity that would listen that the pain left upon its arrival.**_

 _ **When he woke to water torture, a battery operated heart and too kind, too knowing eyes, he found himself wishing he'd died on the table.**_

 _ **When Yinsen fell instead he screamed his rage to the heavens and razed the entire place to the ground.**_

 _ **Later, he would think about how much his roar sound like the howl of a wolf.**_

* * *

 _Dragonstone._

 _It looked nothing like she'd imagined it would and yet it was everything she'd ever dreamed. Better it had enough room for her entire army of Unsullied as well as her Khalasar without being too crowded._

 _It was her birthplace and now it had the potential to become her home._

 _Taking a seat on the empty throne, she looked out at the group before her, her most loyal._

 _Tyrion._

 _Missandei._

 _Grey Worm._

 _They were nearly as loyal as her Ko and she almost saw them as such. The only ones missing were Jorah and Daario, both of whom she both ached for and loathed seeing, mere reminders of the one man who held her heart._

 _Catching sight of Jhago and Aggo out of the corner of her eye, she turned to them._

" **We will be riding to the cold lands soon to gather Allies. I will take Rhakaro and Grey Worm, as well as Tyrion. You will stay and help Missandei keep everyone in line. Lord Varys is not to be trusted. Keep him in your sight."**

 _The low gruttal tones of dothraki left her lips as if she'd been speaking it her whole life and she fought back a smirk as Varys sent her a startled glance. She'd played the part of reluctant leader well in his presence and he still saw her as a foolish child. As a naive girl, playing at being a woman. He didn't know of the long nights after Drogo's death that she'd spent training with her Khalasar learning how to fight. The nights before when her husband would sit beside her and teach her the ways of war in the case he ever fell in battle._

 _She'd been groomed for this since the day she'd wed her beloved and she held no regret for it._

 _Dragons were patient predators, and they were loyal. If Varys dared to betray her, dared to put her family in danger, she would set him alight and watch as his corpse burned._

 _Aggo glanced at the group, then frowned, ever the protective one._

" **You are our Khaleesi. You need more than the Unsullied one and our Ko if you are traveling. Anyone could try to take you and we still need the Andals to believe you are a meek bitch. Take one of the hunter groups."**

 _Nodding, she turned to Tyrion, who had suggested she ask the help of the North._

" _Tell me of this new King of Winterfell."_

 _Her hand nodded, disregarding the conversation she'd had with her dothraki._

" _Jon Snow is the bastard son of the late Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark…"_

* * *

 _ **Flying was…liberating.**_

 _ **It was familiar, even though he knew he'd never done such a thing before. The whistle of the wind in his ear seemed like a mother's lullaby, caressing the surface of his armor as if announcing that it had missed him.**_

 _ **His blood sang, and deep within his mind came a low content rumble.**_

 _ **It was the second most amazing feeling he'd ever had, just under the feeling he got the moment a new bot came alive.**_

 _ **Warm, and all consuming.**_

 _ **He pushed the suit higher, ignoring Jarvis' warning of the impending ice damage.**_

 _ **The manic smile on his lips as the suit plummeted to the ground, rebooting and shooting back into the air, was full of wonder and he could only hope the night would never end.**_

* * *

 _Jon Snow and Sansa Stark were, for lack of better word, interesting._

 _The eldest daughter of the Stark family watched her with a wary gaze, as if she expected the madness that the Targaryen family were known for to raze her ancestral home to the ground._

 _In contrast, her brother seemed fascinated by her very presence, and that of Drogon, who seemed to like the older male as well._

 _It was the first time she'd seen her dear eldest friendly with anyone that wasn't her._

 _She wasn't sure how she felt about it._

 _Still, there was something familiar about the young Lord. He carried an ember of the Targaryen flame, one cooled by the icy winter of a Stark wolf. It was small but bright, and it caressed her own every time they were in the same room. Calling to her in the way that Viserys' had once upon a time._

 _It could only mean one thing, yet she had to be sure._

" _Your brother looks nothing like Ned Stark."_

 _Sansa turned to her, blue eyes cold._

" _Do not insult my br-"_

" _Did you know that our motto Fire and Blood is a very literal one? There is a flame in the blood of every Targaryen and it calls to its closest kin every time it is near. Strange that the bastard child of Ned Stark would carry such a flame when the only Stark-Targaryen relation that could've borne such a child ended with your father's sworn brother killing mine."_

" _He raped my aunt!"_

 _She shook her head. "I have spoken to Elia's family. She and Rhaegar parted after their children were born. He married Lyanna Stark only a week later. My brother was killed for a trespass he did not commit."_

 _The girl stared at her stunned._

" _Father would've never betrayed mother." She finally whispered._

" _No good husband would."_

" _Jon's really your nephew?"_

" _Yes."_

 _Sansa swallowed. "Are you going to make him leave Winterfell?"_

 _She turned, watching the young lord as he stroked Drogon's snout, oblivious to the fearful, envious looks the other northerners were sending him._

 _Winterfell had been his home for his entire life. Far be it for her to take it from him._

 _Still, the choice wasn't hers to make._

" _I will not. It is his choice to make, but as I've seen, this is his home._ You _are his family. Take care of my heir, Sansa Stark."_

* * *

 _ **This was all his fault.**_

 _ **Yinsen's home was being attacked with his weapons and it was all his fault.**_

 _ **Obadiah**_ **knew** _ **and had just led him around by his nose, and he had followed, so eager to have an adult in his life that finally**_ _cared_ _ **about him again. Someone to fill the hole left behind when Jarvis and Ann died.**_

 _ **There was always his aunt Peggy, but she was sick, horribly so and had been admitted into a nursing home during his stint in Afghanistan.**_

 _ **Obadiah was the only person he had left to trust, and the man had betrayed him.**_

 _ **Tightening his repulsor glove he stepped into the newest of his suits and flew out fury and betrayal thumming through his veins.**_

 _ **In the back of his mind, the beast let out a terrifying snarl and he vowed one way or another he would make his "godfather" pay for this.**_

* * *

 _She's done it._

 _A small disbelieving laugh left her throat as she stared into the stunned gazes of Jon Snow and Tyrion._

 _Years of fighting and the Iron Throne was finally hers, Cersei Lannister's cooling corpse lying at her feet. Blood streaked her skin and her hair was in a wild disarray, the war cries of her Khalasar and Unsullied ringing in her ears as adrenaline raced through her._

 _Twenty years, since the throne had been usurped from Targaryen hands and it was finally back in them, yet she wasn't sure how she felt about it._

 _So many emotions swirled within her gut, that she was almost faint with them, her heart racing beneath its cage in her chest._

 _Standing, the young woman turned to her people, feeling the phantom of strong arms wrapping around her waist._

 _He was warning her, and she listened, breathing in the scent of a man who was long gone._

 _The peace would only last so long, everything in her could feel it._

 _Winter was coming._

* * *

 _ **Obadiah was dead.**_

 _ **Standing before the press, taking in the hungry gazes of the sharks watching him, he had the oddest urge to…laugh.**_

 _ **Sheep, each wanting to be the one on top. The one with the most sensational article, never mind the fact that as far as they knew he'd just lost his "godfather" in a tragic accident.**_

 _ **They didn't care.**_

 _ **Not for his feelings, not for the fake story that SHIELD wanted him to feed them.**_

 _ **Not even for the murderous little electromagnetic disk in his chest keeping his heart in one piece.**_

 _ **It was then that he decided he didn't care either.**_

 _ **So, he looked them all in the eyes, his gaze dark but honest as his beast bayed for blood in his mind. He'd show them.**_

 _ **All of them.**_

" _ **Truth is, I am Iron Man."**_

* * *

 _The peace lasted two summers._

 _It had served its purpose in stabilizing the seven kingdoms, the remains of Westeros' most powerful family coming together to form an alliance. Jon and Sansa ruled the north, keeping watch over the wall as their family had for centuries. Tyrion served as her hand, Jorah, Daario, and her dothrakhqoyi serving as her guard._

 _The people had been hesitant at first, especially seeing her beloved children, but within months of her rule, that hesitance was forgotten. Jon had warned them of the Night King, a warning emphasized by the reappearance of Bran Stark who along with confirming the coming war, had also Jon's heritage. She's formally named the older man her heir, much to his surprise and he'd been happy to learn more of their family._

 _For the first time in eons, Westeros was prospering the Seven kingdoms getting along better than they had in ages._

 _Then Winter came._

 _Cold swept across the land, harsher than it had any right to be only days after Jon had arrived speaking of the white walkers nearing the wall._

 _She'd flown out to help the night's watch stall them and for the most part they'd succeeded…_

 _But her child was dead._

 _Her beautiful beloved Viserion._

 _The Night King had slaughtered him, sent him tumbling from the skies as if he were a mere fly and for the first time in a long time she felt_ _ **hatred.**_

 _Another child stolen from her, another death on her hands._

 _He would pay for taking her child from her._

 _As of now, Westeros was at war._

* * *

 _ **SHIELD.**_

 _ **Naughty, naughty SHIELD.**_

 _ **A bunch of fucking idiots.**_

 _ **Did they really think that because he was dying he wouldn't notice that they'd sent one of their agents to infiltrate his company?**_

 _ **Surely they knew that he'd been designing their firewalls since Howard had discovered his talent for it.**_

 _ **He knew every agent on their roster including their infamous Black Widow.**_

 _ **Smiling politely at the woman, he decided to play it by ear and act as they expected him to. The beast within rumbled in agreement.**_

 _ **No one expects prey to a be a predator.**_

 _ **Following the arrest of Hammer and creation of an element that would save his life, he found himself almost disappointed.**_

 _ **Iron Man, yes. Tony Stark, not recommended.**_

 _ **Perhaps the Widow would be able to read masks better if she knew her own face as well as he knew his own.**_

* * *

 _The war against the white walkers was vicious, deadly in a way the game of thrones had never seemed._

 _She went to battle with her dothraki and Unsullied, her armies from Mereen joining to fight alongside them and the Westerosi armies._

 _It was the first time since the era of her ancestors that all of the kingdoms, both Westerosi and Essos had come together to fight a common enemy._

 _Worse they looked to her to lead._

 _She had no time to panic or protest the appointment either, she'd taken to it with the grace of a Khal, showing the non- dothraki how to fight with the same savagery her beloved's people were known for._

 _Other than herself only one other woman graced the battlefield._

 _Arya Stark._

 _The youngest Stark was vicious in her manner, a true Wolf and Dany found herself increasingly fond of the young woman._

 _In this war, banners, borders, none of it held any meaning. The only goal was survival, and Arya Stark understood that as well as anyone. The girl had been shocked to see her on the battlefield._

" _You are the queen, yet you are here."_

" _A true leader fights and dies with their Khalasar. Not sitting on their ass in an iron throne."_

 _Arya stared at her, then smirked._

" _Whatever you say, Khaleesi."_

 _She snorted, as did many of the dothraki._

" _Daenerys. We are comrades."_

" _Arya."_

 _Their friendship had been an amazing one, one forged in blood and she'd slaughtered an entire legion of the undead when news of the wolf's death reached her ears._

 _She'd thought she couldn't hate the Night King more than she did._

 _Then there was this._

 _Dark violet eyes stared hollowly at the cooling corpse before them, their owner's heart empty for all that it was bleeding in her chest._

 _Rhaegal._

 _Another child stolen from her._

 _She was a horrible mother._

 _Three children, all stolen from her with nary a thought._

 _Rhaegal's lifeblood stained the crisp snow beyond the wall, one of his wings frostbitten thanks to the fires of his formerly dead brother._

 _Strong arms wound around her._

" _Do not look, Khaleesi."_

 _Jorah._

 _He, much like the dothraki knew very well how much her dragons meant to her. They knew the alternative and they couldn't help glancing at Drogon's wailing form knowing that if he was lost their Khaleesi would follow._

 _Sometimes they hated being right._

* * *

 _ **Why had he agreed to this?**_

 _ **Looking around the debrief room at the exhausted "heroes" in front of him, he couldn't help but wonder what the hell he'd been smoking when he'd agreed to join Fury's little boy band.**_

 _ **The pirate had just finished debriefing them all and he could feel his beast growling lowly at the back of his mind at the looks a certain star spangled asshole was sending his way.**_

 _ **The man looked like he couldn't decide whether or not he measured up to Howard or not and it made his hackles rise. He'd been putting up with it his entire life, always trying to catch up to the shadow of a dead man and he was sick of it.**_

 _ **Still, as Fury revealed that the heroes would be housed in his tower, as he argued the announcement only to be given an ultimatum, he wondered how these things would go horribly wrong.**_

 _ **Because it would.**_

 _ **Later, he would come to regret this, he knew he would.**_

* * *

 _They'd won._

 _Ten long summers of fighting the monsters behind the wall, including the desecrated corpses of her children and the war was finally over._

 _No one was relieved._

 _Every eye was on her, but she paid them no attention, her entire being empty and the battlefield eerily silent._

 _Her children, each and every one of them had fallen._

 _Viserion, struck down mid flight by the Night King himself, then reborn as their enemy. She'd been the one to strike him down the second time, her arkh of dragon stone slipping through his scales with an ease that belied they pain she felt when she did it._

 _Rhaegal, struck down by the wight form of his younger brother, his wing frostbitten by the blue flames that had replace once burning red-orange. He'd been turned into a wight by The Night King, just as Viserion had, and she'd returned him to his rest just as she had her youngest. It had hurt just as much._

 _Then, Drogon._

 _Her beautiful, beloved eldest son._

 _He had lived until the very end of the war, fighting alongside her, mourning their dwindling family as she herself did, and she had prayed to the Great Stallion that he would remain with her when the others had not._

 _Her prayers went unanswered._

 _His corpse lay still before her, scales frozen under her touch and the Night King's headless body beside him, and she wanted to scream._

 _Why was all she loved taken from her?_

 _What had she done, that the gods would curse her to lose not one child, but all four?_

 _Empty violet eyes watched as her only remaining child slowly turned to ash, collapsing to her knees beside him as he joined his brothers and fathers in the Great Stallion's fields._

 _Behind her, her armies were silent, each bowing their head._

 _The war had been won._

 _But none of them had any doubt that their queen was lost to them._

* * *

 _ **Why didn't they understand that he was trying to save they all?**_

 _ **Another invasion was coming, larger than before, worse HE was coming and nothing they currently had would stop him.**_

 _ **The horrific visions of future the witch had forced upon him flashed through his mind and he fought back a shudder, his heart rabbiting away painfully in his chest.**_

 _ **How could they take her word over his?**_

 _ **She glanced at him and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from flinching away from her, determined not to show her anymore weakness. His beast roared it's agreement, baring its teeth at the threat.**_

 _ **Then Cap told her, she was an Avenger.**_

 _ **Worse, everyone else agreed with him, Clint treating the girl like another daughter, the others coddling her like she was a mere child.**_

 _ **They acted like she hadn't just violated his most private and treasured place. The only place he could just**_ **be.**

 _ **He wanted to warn them, wanted to lash out at their betrayal.**_

 _ **Beast snarled at them, and it was all he could do to keep his lips from curling to echo the sound.**_

 _ **He'd thought, had let himself believe, for one glorious second that they were a family. He had wanted, so badly, for it to be true that he'd ignored the obvious signs that it wasn't.**_

 _ **He'd ignored the way they conveniently scheduled team nights on days they knew he was gonna be out of town, and how they asked more and more of him at every turn.**_

 _ **He'd ignored the way Rogers berated him at every turn, and how the others barring Bruce just let it happen, even if most of the time, he'd been trying to help. The whispers of how he was just a civilian trying to play with the pros fell of ears that played deaf.**_

 _ **And he would ignore this.**_

 _ **They could have his compound, and he would continue to maintain their budget and their PR, but as of this moment, Iron Man was retired.**_

 _ **Turning away from the scene of his "friends" welcoming the enemy into their midst he tried to ignore the feeling of his heart breaking.**_

 _ **The low whine that left his beast told him that he didn't succeed.**_

* * *

 _She died on her thirty-fourth name day._

 _In the two years since the Winter War, she had become listless to those that knew her, so they weren't surprised, but the general public hadn't and they were devastated._

 _She'd seemed so...well not lively, but successful and kind, and once more under her reign, Westeros was flourishing. They'd thought she was recovering from the death of her dragons, had thought of them as little more than their Queen's pets, but...they couldn't be more wrong._

 _The night before, she called her closest companions to her chambers, violet eyes worn but warm as she greeted them. Jon, Jorah, Sansa, Tyrion and her dothrakhqoyi all stood before her as she gifted them with a smile and thanked them for their services to her._

 _Then she asked Jon to step forward._

" _Your grace," He greeted cautiously, able to tell that something was off about his Queen Aunt, especially after years of fighting at her side._

 _He'd been stunned when she had revealed his true heritage to him, but had ceded the throne to her as he had no desire to be anywhere but Winterfell. Instead, he'd allowed himself to be named her heir, an arrangement the general populace was more than happy with, many of whom were enamoured with the Queen's firm, but gentle no nonsense way of ruling. She was as ruthless as her dothraki screamers, but knew when to be kind and the public loved that about her._

 _She knew it and he did as well, what her true reasoning for singling him out was, and she knew he wouldn't like what she had to say._

" _Nephew, tonight you are Jon Snow no longer. You are Aegon "Jon" Targaryen, First of your name, and King of the Seven Kingdoms."_

" _Milady," He protested, while everyone else gasped, stunned and she found herself vaguely amused by their actions._

 _Tyrion breaks their shock. "Queen Daenerys- Dany-" he seemed unsure of how to continue, for once, and she smiled._

" _Khaleesi?" Aggo asked and her smile turned his way, full of the pain she kept so carefully hidden._

" **I am tired, Aggo. I wish to join my family in the Night Lands."** _She whispered in her late husband's tongue and she knew all of them could hear the age old grief in her voice. Jorah looked devastated by his words, but her Ko weren't. They knew her feelings as well as they knew their own._

 _She is tired of living, of outliving everyone she loved. She had done what she'd set out to do and had united both her kingdoms in Essos and in Westeros._

 _Now she just wanted to rest and her Ko knew that. They'd been waiting for it._

 _They nodded, knowing that they would be following her into the Night._

" _You're leaving?" Sansa gasped and she nodded._

" _Yes. By dawn, I'll be gone. I wish to rest."_

 _Taking the wrong meaning from her words, the newly crowned King and his adoptive sister left the room, still stunned by her passing of the crown._

 _Only Tyrion, Jorah, and her Ko remained._

" _You plan to die." Tyrion stated, having gathered so from the horrified expression on Jorah's face._

" _Please, Khaleesi," the former knight begged. "Reconsider."_

 _She sighed, cupping his face in one hand._

" _My Jorah, I have outlive all of my children, though I'm not but three and four summers. I am tired of waking every day with the ghost of a dead man lingering on the edge of my conscious. Of walking outside expecting to see my children soaring above me only to find birds flying in their place. Please," she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. "Let me rest."_

 _He stared down at her, then nodded, a single tear escaping his resigned gaze._

" _As you wish, Khaleesi."_

 _Thanking him, she pulled a clear vial from the trousers beneath her dress watching as Tyrion's eyes widened in horror._

" _No. Absolutely not!"_

" _Fire cannot kill a dragon...and the fire in my blood nulls most poisons. All but this one."_

 _Jorah swallowed, wary of Tyrion's reaction. "What is it?"_

 _The imp answered for her, a scowl twisting his features._

" _Tears of Lys. Which she_ won't _be taking because anyone that does dies in agony."_

 _She sighed and she wanted to argue but she didn't, not with her other plan still in place. Instead she handed over the vial to her Hand with little argument, his relief too imminent for him to think of her having a backup._

 _How unlike him._

 _She promised not to try to use the poison, and watched as they left believing they'd thwarted her imminent death._

 _That night, as everyone slept, she slipped away from the castle with her faithful bloodriders at her side._

 _After a short ride they arrived in a clearing not too far from Kings Landing, the stars shining down on them as she pulled a second vial from her dress._

 _Its smaller that the vial she'd handed over to Tyrion, the liquid inside was no less deadly._

 _It was a concoction of her own creation, and she knew that with it, she would be able to achieve her goal._

 _Saying her last goodbyes, she downed the vial and laid down beside her horse, her bloodriders following her lead as they each removed a knife from their sheath._

" **He is riding,"** _She whispered, smiling as darkness descended upon her vision._ **"He came for me, my sun and stars."**

 _Her voice faded and a smile, the likes of which they hadn't seen since the days of Khal Drogo, crossed her lips, her last breath leaving her as a peaceful sigh._

 _Paying their last respects, they followed their Khaleesi into the Night Lands and prayed she would find happiness there._

 _Finally, their Ko was at peace._

* * *

 _ **Why wouldn't they listen?**_

 _ **Why didn't they understand that The People were afraid? That they were not Gods?!**_

 _ **They hadn't even read The Accords!**_

 _ **Yes there was room for improvement but that's why it was only in the drafting stage. He'd been meeting with the committee every day for weeks to straighten them out but no!**_

 _ **Why would they trust the only person on the team with any experience with negotiation and politics?**_

 _ **He hadn't know that this was the reason.**_

 _ **The War had never been about the Accords at all. No, it was all about**_ **Bucky** _ **, because why wouldn't it be?**_

 _ **Bucky who had**_ **killed** _ **his mother.**_

 _ **He wanted to believe that Steve hadn't known, but the guilt and self-righteous placation in those blue eyes told him that he had. And that he hadn't told him.**_

 _ **As soon as the 'yes' left the blonde's lips, his vision went red, his beast roaring in his mind, and he struck.**_

* * *

The memories flashed back and forth between his memories and hers, and he barely felt it when his body was taken from his frozen hell.

He didn't noticed the scream that left Pepper and Rhodey as they took in his battered form or Pepper begging him to hold on, that she was going to save him. Nor did her feel it when she injected him with extremis and his blood began to boil.

No.

All he knew were the images that were flashing in his mind and the pain of his past merging with his present, the memories slowing as they reached her ( _his_ ) death.

Finally, two weeks after nearly returning to the nightlands, violet eyes shot open, their owners back arching as he release a roar that shook the world.

Daenerys Targaryen, _Tony Stark_ , had awakened and was out for blood.

Steve Rogers had no idea what he'd unleashed, but he would soon find out.

 **TBC...**


	14. KHRNaruto KisaIta

**Summary: He's the last person they'd expect to have secrets and when Bel finds an injured man in the gardens of Varia mansion, they discover that he has more than they'd ever believed. Aka. The one where Kisame is reincarnated as Squalo Superbi. KisaIta;**

 **Chapter One**

He was the last person they would expect to have secrets.

Logically, they knew that he had to have _some_ , but everything about him seemed to contradict that fact.

He was loud, annoyingly so, almost constantly in motion or speaking, irritation always plain on his face. Words spilled from his lips in never ending torrents whether he was awake or not and everyone knew his goals and ambitions, as he certainly never hid them.

Their Sword Emperor was not a coy man when it came to information about himself, not by any means, and Xanxus had often felt it would be the man's undoing. When he'd told them man such, his friend had laughed, a smirk on his lips.

" _I doubt it."_ The confidence of the words had almost waylaid the (well hidden) worry he felt at the idiot's oversharing.

However, now, looking back on it, the Varia's commander wandered how he hadn't noticed that for someone that said so much, his second actually said very little.

While it was true the world knew his ambition to be the greatest swordsman in history, they didn't know _why_.

They didn't know why he wanted to be better than the best. Why he trained himself to exhaustion on their off days, swinging through katas until his body trembled from exertion.

They knew he loved pocky in a way that bordered upon obsession, and that he had a fondness for blackbirds, crows in particular.

They knew he was the only member of the Varia that could come close to beating Mammon in battle when the miser used their illusions, fighting as if it were as easy as breathing.

They knew that he was terrified of any of them being sick, having flown into pure mother hen mode the first time Belphegor caught a cold. His eyes had widened in horror when the child had flown into a coughing fit that had left him panting for breath, full of old fears and remembered pain.

He'd watch the clouds at times when he believed he was alone, a small wistful smile on his face that would vanish the second he felt anyone watching.

For years, they'd all noticed these things, and other small quirks of the swordsman, but they'd never known why.

Yet, somehow deep in his bones, Xanxus could feel something building. Something, he knew would explain everything…and he wasn't sure if he would like it or not.

 ***/***

 _It was raining._

 _It was always raining._

 _Hollow amber eyes began to water as they gazed down at the battered body before them, taking way the rain seemed to be trying to wash away the blood staining its ivory skin._

 _Onyx eyes glazed over in dead stared up at him, their owner's lips curled into a peaceful smile and in that moment, he knew_ _ **hatred.**_

 _He hated Konoha, and everything it had put this beautiful man through in his short life._

 _Hated the Uchiha clan for forcing their burdens onto the shoulders of a child just because of his genius._

 _Hated Sasuke for being to fucking stupid to see beyond the lies being fed to him from all sides._

 _Hated the Akatsuki and Pein for dragging a pacifist into their ranks never seeing how every death weighed down a soul that wasn't built for killing for all that it was good at it._

 _Hated himself for going along with his beloved's wishes._

 _But most of all, he hated the man on the ground._

 _Hated how self sacrificing he was, as if he were simply a weapon to be discarded once it had lost its use._

 _How his lips would curl into that warm, sweet smile when they were alone and Kisame managed to say something that amused him._

 _How his eyes would light up whenever he saw a stick of pocky, and the adorable pout he'd get when it was all gone._

 _How he would sing, soft and low, on the quiet nights away from base, his crows in the trees cawing along._

 _How he loved with his whole heart, even when the person he shared that love with didn't deserve it._

 _How he gave everything for a brother that hated him and allowed himself to become the monster the boy chased to protect him from the true monsters lurking in the shadows._

 _He hated how, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hate the man who'd shown him the love he'd craved. Who had given his body and soul to him, looking past his monstrous appearance to an equally monstrous personality._

 _He hated how much he loved him._

" _Why did you do this to me, 'Tachi?" He rasped, the rain hiding his tears, as he caressed the cold flesh of his lover's prone form._

" _Why did you show me this?"_

 _Why?_

 **Why?**

 _Why show him how beautiful love was, only to take it away?_

 _Why teach him how to open his heart?_

 _WHY?_

 _Snarling angrily to cover up the sob that wanted to escape him, he leaned closer, lips almost brushing the younger man's chilled ones._

" _I hate you, Itachi. I_ _ **hate**_ _you."_

 _His voice broke and he kissed him chastely, hating the cold of the body beneath him._

 _Straightening, he cast his strongest fire jutsu, just to spite the youngest Uchiha and Tobi, who he knew were expecting to get Itachi's eyes. As the corpse burned he rebuilt his façade, once more becoming the lackadaisical shark of the Akatsuki._

 _He would fight in the war on the horizon, and when it was done, he would join his lover in the great beyond. Hopefully._

 _Smiling slightly, he allowed his gaze to trace his husband's peaceful features as the flames swallowed them. Allowed peace to engulf the grief trying to overtake him._

" _I love you, babe. I'll see you soon."_

 ***/***

He woke with tears cooling on his cheeks and a broken smile on his lips.

Twenty-six years had passed since that day, twenty-five since he'd killed himself and been reborn in a whole new world and yet it still hurt just as much as it had then.

He'd killed himself to escape Konoha's interrogations, hoping he would awaken in the afterlife to find Itachi waiting for him on the other side.

He hadn't.

Instead he'd awakened as a newborn babe in the arms of his mother in this life, Jocelyn Superbi, a hitwoman for Massimo Vongola, and a mafia doctor second only to Shamal, name Elias.

He'd hated it, even with the love his parents doted upon him, and had been diagnosed with depression at an early age, something he hid even now. As he grew, he got better, taking up the sword when he saw that his father was a swordsman, an ode to his former life.

Yet, he'd never forgotten Itachi.

Nor had he ever given anyone else his heart.

His parents had found it odd, but had assumed he was aromantic, and accepted it. The Varia hadn't cared, most of them being aromantic themselves, and he'd never had the heart to say different.

His past life in the shinobi world had helped him get into shape in this life, even as it stopped featuring daily in dreams and nightmare to every other week, then every few months.

He learned and adapted, manifesting his chakra just as early as he had in his former life and his flames soon after.

When he was sent to mafia school by his parents at eleven, he'd been amused (and disgusted) by the fact that these children started training so late, when in Kiri he'd be gearing up for the graduation exam by now.

Then he'd met Xanxus.

Xanxus whose crimson eyes and dark hair had reminded him of his lost heart, whose tough exterior endeared him to him even though it reminded him of the child he hated.

Xanxus who was lost, angry, and alone, and _powerful_.

Xanxus, who he was almost sure Itachi would've taken under his wing.

It was an easy decision to decide to follow him for the rest of his life, after all he'd never wanted to be a leader.

When they took over the Varia, and he defeated the sword emperor, he'd had no problem surrendering the running of the organization to Xanxus. He was a soldier first and foremost, not a leader, but Xanxus was

He'd wondered if Itachi would be proud of him, of the family he'd managed to build.

He'd hoped so.

When Xanxus had been frozen in their failed coup d'état against Vongola, he remembered being terrified and angry, hoping that Xanxus would live until they could retrieve him. That he wouldn't lose him as he had his lover.

He'd been grateful when they'd managed it, even if it was a decade later.

Now, he was finally happy. Their family was firmly on the side of the Baby Boss, who kept the old guard off their backs, and his nightmares were at an all-time low.

At least they had been until earlier that week.

All week he'd found himself dreaming of the past, and after months of peace he couldn't help but wonder _why_.

He wasn't sure, but he knew that if the feeling building in his gut meant anything he wouldn't like it.

A flare of flames caught his attention.

Cloud, stronger than he ever felt, even from the cloud arcobaleno, danced at the edge of his own, tinged with mist flames just as strong.

Wiping the tears from his cheeks, swiftly dressed and grabbed his second sword, rushing from the room.

His boss met him in the halls, lips pursed and face dark.

"Any clue what the fuck is going on?" The younger snarled and he shook his head, even as his gut screamed that something about the flames were familiar.

Their moved toward the direction it was coming from only to be intercepted by a harried Bel.

"You have to see this, shishihi."

"What is it, shitty Prince?"

The boy smiled viciously. "Half dead intruder in the gardens. Mammy is with him now."

Xanxus' eyes widened. "Half dead and his flames are this strong?"

He nodded and turned to lead them back the way he came. Once they reached the gardens, Squalo froze, silver eyes wide as they took in the prone form before them.

Clad in a blood red robe, hair flowing freely around his battered form, was the face that had lurked behind his eyelid for the past two and a half decades.

He was bleeding, and unconscious but no less beautiful than he'd been the last time he'd seen him.

This had to be a dream.

He took a stumbling step forward, reaching out with a shaking hand as he dreaded feeling cold flesh beneath his fingertips.

A broken sob left his lips and he smiled.

He was warm.

 _Alive._

"'Tachi."

Ignoring the others, as well as the whirlwind of purple and indigo surrounding them, he gathered the other in his arms and barked out a laugh.

His mate was alive.

 **TBC…**


	15. KHRShadohunter Alec-is-Skull

**Summary: Following the war with Valentine, Alec is banished from the Clave. Shattered by the betrayal and the heartbreak of his break-up with Magnus he runs away and along the way, sheds the name Alec to take up a new one; Skull De Mort.**

 **Pairing: Malec, Sizzy, Clace**

 **Tags: Minor Clary Bashing possibly; Canon Typical Violence; X-over; Spoilers; Alternate Universe; OOC!ness; More to be added**

 **Chapter One**

In the end, he'd expected it.

He could see it in the way his fellow shadowhunters' gazes lingered on him, disgust and ire always visible.

In the disgruntled whispers they thought he couldn't hear.

In his mother's power hungry eyes and false platitudes and his father's ever-present arrogance.

In Lady Herondale's superior smirk.

He'd seen it, had felt it in the very marrow of his bones and he'd prepared for it as much as possible, hiding away money when he could and discreetly packing it away with some clothing and necessities he kept hidden beneath his bed.

Yet, it didn't make it any less painful.

Blue eyes gazed listlessly at the assembly before them, taking in the stoic expressions and disgusted sneers.

He wouldn't let them see his pain, to see the tears building behind his mask of impassiveness.

He couldn't.

Especially when his parents, the people that were supposed to love him _unconditionally_ were amongst them.

"Alexander Lightwood. You have been charged with treason, heresy, and homosexuality due to your escapades with the Warlock Magnus Bane as well as downworlders in general. How do you plead?" Lady Herondale asked and he stared at her.

"Does it matter?" He asked softly and she frowned.

"Excuse me?"

"Does it matter what I plead? We all know the verdict. This trial is merely a farce so that you can tell everyone you gave me a fair chance. Yet I have no representation, no one to speak on my behalf and, most importantly, your prejudices to take into account. Please convict me and be done with it." He replied and she eyed him for a long moment.

"Very well, Mr. Lightwood." Her cold gaze softened. "You have served us honorably for over a decade and while you dalliance with downworlders is a mar against you, you fought valiantly in the war against Valentine, even when your family and those you care for would not. Due to this, we have levied your sentence."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Levied?"

"Indeed. You will not be DeRuned as your crimes would normally call for. Instead you will be banished from the clave, runes in tact. Consider it our boon for your service in light of your crimes. Your banishment will be reconsidered in twenty years time, as is customary. You have until sunset to leave the premises. Dismissed."

He stared at her wide-eyed, then nodded and fled to room.

When he arrived in his bedroom he grabbed his bag and his bow, his heart screaming as he left behind the only place he'd even known.

Steeling his nerves, he made his way to his sister's bedroom and knocked.

She answered quickly, blinking as she saw his bag. "Long mission?"

He shook his head. "Banishment."

Her eyes widened, flashing furiously. "What?! Why?!"

"Homosexuality, Treason, and heresy. So mainly, my relationship with Magnus."

Tears welled in her eyes. "But you aren't together anymore." She argued and his heart ached at the reminder.

"I know."

"Where will you go?"

He looked away.

His original plan had been to go to Magnus, but...his warlock wanted nothing to do with him. Their last few exchanges had been cold, impassive, and his heart broke a little more every time they were in the same room.

There was no way Magnus would help him. Not with this…

And he wasn't sure he wanted him to because he knew he would blame himself.

It was a trait they shared.

Izzy seemed to get the message, because she nodded and kissed him on the cheek, hugging him tighter than she had since they were kids.

"Are you gonna say goodbye to Jace and Clary?"

"No. They're not here."

She nodded once more, eyes wet.

"Be safe, Big Brother. Stay in touch."

"I will."

Heart heavy, he walked away from her, knowing it would be decades before he saw her again.

He walked away and forced himself not to look back.

It was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

 ***/***

He leaves New York with $6,000, his bow and arrows, stele, and a duffle of clothes.

It leaves him feeling hollow.

At night he dreams of strong arms and glitter.

The hollowness grows.

 ***/***

Three days into his banishment, he finds himself in Rhode Island and happens across a shadowhunter fighting three demons, alone.

The kid is a rookie, only fourteen or so and losing horribly.

Blood soaks her skin, and she's dead on her feet, the demons attacking her viciously and without fail.

As one goes for a fatal blow, he feels something warm spreading throughout his body because, _he isn't gonna make it in time!_

A flare of purple surrounds him, interspersed with a gentle orange and it as if time had slowed down.

He's suddenly in front of her, demon blade cutting through his arm as his body shielded hers.

Together, they defeat the demons, before she passed out unceremoniously.

He caught her, loosening his grasp on the warmth that had overtaken him, and the flames flicker away as if they'd never existed.

It leaves him befuddled and as soon as the girl is safe within her own institute, he goes and researches it at a local shadow world store owned by a vampire.

Soul Flames or Dying Will Flames.

The ability to manifest one's will in physical form and use it to one's own means.

His are amber and purple. The sky and clouds.

A leader and a drifter, forever on the fringes of society.

He snorted.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

Later that night, he checks into his hotel room, and when he catches his reflection in the vanity mirror, it freezes him.

Violet eyes stare back at him in the place of blue, a shock of vivid hair the same color in the place of his normal black.

The colors are bright, and they remind him of Magnus.

He loves them.

Besides, they give him an idea.

When he leaves the hotel, his name is no longer Alec.

His name is Morteo.

Death.

The death of Alexander Lightwood, the Clave's perfect soldier.

He imagines the laugh it would've drawn from Magnus and pretends his heart doesn't break all over again.

 ***/***

He joins the circus on an impulse.

It had been three months since he'd been banished and his money had started to run low, so he'd tried to search for a job in the mundane world. However, having no mundane documents, he had found it difficult.

Or at least he had until he'd happened upon a man talking about auditions for a new stuntman.

He didn't know what had made him sign up, probably curiosity, but once he'd mounted the bike and taken off, it became as easy as breathing.

Flips, spins, all of it came to him naturally and he felt a wild grin split his face at the freedom it left racing in his veins.

Afterwards, the man hosting the auditions had smiled at him, awe clear in his gaze.

"How long you been driving bikes, Kid?"

He'd shrugged. "This was my first time."

The man's jaw dropped then an unholy grin crossed his lips and he'd held out his hand.

"Welcome Aboard, Kid. You got a name."

"Skull." He decided after a moment. "Skull de Mort."

"Nice ta meetcha, Skull. The name's Lorenzo Ciccaro.

*/*

He crafts 'Skull's' personality after Magnus.

Its ridiculous, and it makes no sense to anyone, especially himself, and yet he throws himself into the act.

He's melodramatic and exuberant, the exact opposite of himself, and it works to help him shove away the pain that he still feels for being rejected for who he is.

Only Lorenzo has met him without his mask but the man only smiles whenever the facade is in full effect.

When asked why, he tells him that everyone copes in different ways and that he had no right to question how he did.

About three weeks in, he discovers that he's immortal.

He'd been doing a stunt and it went wrong, his bike crashing and bursting into flames.

He was perfectly fine as he exited the vehicle, his suit in tatters and a vivid grin on his lips as adrenaline pumped through his veins.

It earns him a new name.

The immortal stuntman; the man death hates.

The irony makes him laugh so hard that he cries because one of the reasons Magnus had left him was to protect himself from being left behind when Alec died.

Now, that is no longer a problem, but Al- _Skull_ is the one all alone.

 ***/***

The letter finds him on the anniversary of his second year at the circus.

They're in Italy, their last show there, and he'd entered his dressing room to find the letter waiting for him on the vanity.

 _"I Prescelti Sette"_

 _Skull De Mort_

He only thinks about it for a few moments, then he consults Lorenzo, who urges him to go, knowing he'd been itching to travel more for a while.

" _You were never meant to be caged to one place, Kid. Go check it out for a while. There'll always be a place for you here."_

He does as the man says.

He doesn't regret it.

Even after he's led into a trap and turned into a toddler.

The others of the group, the arcobaleno, are too easy to fool and its almost amusing that they think he's the weakest amongst them.

He does nothing to discourage this idea.

He doesn't regret that either.

Or at least he hadn't...until now…

 **TBC...**


	16. AlecisSkull Pt2

**Chapter Two**

Twenty two years.

Isabelle sighed softly as she leaned against the railing within her institute and watched her newest shadowhunters train.

Twenty two years had passed since her elder brother's banishment and subsequent disappearance, and she couldn't help wondering about him.

The clave had sent out missives for him two years ago, on the twentieth anniversary of his 'sentence', calling for a hearing that would reconsider his banishment, but they'd all been returned unopened.

Not to mention, he'd gone to ground only months after leaving the institute, the only hint of his appearance coming in the form of a young shadowhunter who claimed to have been saved by him during a hunt. The girl had appeared at their institute a week after Alec's banishment and had asked if she could thank him for saving her. She'd been extremely disheartened to learn of his exile but had decided to stay so that she could thank him if he returned.

She'd even taken up a bow in his honor.

Izzy snorted, imagining how flustered her stiff brother would've been at the girl's hero worship.

Her gaze drifted over to the warlock beside her.

She'd torn Magnus a new one the night Alec left, furious that even after everything that her brother had given up just to be with him, the man had broken his heart. He'd taken it with an impassive expression right up until she informed him of Alec's exile. The news had struck him hard, shattering the calm facade he'd been wearing since her arrival.

After learning that Alec was gone, he'd thrown himself into fixing downworlder and shadowhunter relations and now, over two decades later, there was finally peace amongst them.

Downworlders and shadowhunters were allowed to love who they pleased, no matter gender or species.

She only wished Alec could see it.

"Thinking of him again?" Her friend called, and she nodded.

"He would've loved this."

Magnus nodded, his dark eyes softening. "Yes, he would have. We talked about it, you know. A few weeks before-" He cut himself off with a shake of his head, glancing over her shoulder as Jace walked over to them.

Her adopted brother had also changed alot since Alec's disappearance. He was quieter, the loss of his parabatai causing him to withdraw from anyone that wasn't family. Then there was the incident, almost twenty years ago.

" _Alec!" Izzy jolted awake as a hoarse scream of despair sounded from the room across from hers, her mind dimly registering the sound as Jace._

" _Alec, no!_ _ **No!**_ _"_

 _She rushed to her brother's room, pushing a frantic Clary aside before she gasped._

 _Jace's parabatai rune was glowing a bright purple, ringed in orange._

 _The color flared, once, then twice, before dimming and the screaming blond began to calm, each breath steadier than the last._

 _When he was completely calm, he looked up at her, blue-green eyes full of pain._

" _They hurt him."_

" _Who?"_

 _He shook his head. "I don't know. He's not in pain anymore. Just angry...and resigned."_

 _She shuddered, pain lancing through her heart at the thought of what her elder brother might be going through._

 _All the same she stood. "Get some rest."_

 _He nodded and fell asleep and she left the room hoping that their coming hunt for Alec would be successful._

 _It wasn't._

Since then, Jace had been searching tirelessly for his missing parabatai, often returning empty handed.

They'd even tried to track him with the parabatai runes, only to be blocked by what seemed to be a wall of violet and amber flames.

It was aggravating, but they knew he was alive so they couldn't complain too much.

Still they could only hope he would return home on day.

Jace nudged her, breaking her from her thoughts. "Hey, mom and Dad are requesting us in Japan. They are going to be meeting with the Japanese Institute in Namimori, and the elders are sending us as well as Magnus as envoys since our alliance is the most successful."

Magnus frowned. "How long will we be gone?"

"A week. Two at the most. Mom and Dad are meeting us there."

The warlock nodded and turned to leave, a shiver of...something racing its way down his spine. Something told him that this visit would be one that changed his life.

The curse was broken.

A tiny smile crossed dark purple lips as the stared down at the calloused hands in front of them. They were still much younger than they had any right to be, looking as if they belonged to a man of twenty or twenty five that a forty five year old, but they were no longer the tiny hands of a toddler and for that he was completely grateful.

After twenty years as a toddler, he'd take this over everything. It wasn't like he would age any further anyways.

He turned to the child had made it all possible, and bowed deeply in gratitude, surprising his other arcobaleno.

"Thank you, Tsunayoshi-san."

Fon followed his example, causing the boy to flush vividly.

"N-No problem?" He stammered and Skull chuckled, reminded of the younger brother he'd left behind so long ago.

Straightening from his bow, he forced his facade back into place, trying to ignore the pang his heart gave at the thought.

Max had been twelve when he'd last seen him, only months away from getting his rune. He'd be thirty four now, runed and active. Oodako nudged him to draw him from his darkening thoughts and he held the little octopus closer.

"We should celebrate, kora!" Colonello cried out and he yelled in agreement, trying his hardest to keep in character.

He'd been playing his part for over two decades, no need to break character now.

"The Great Skull-sama agrees! We should have a party!"

Everyone nodded and the little Decimo beamed at them. "We could have it at the park. There's one a few ways away that con hold us all. This way, Kaa-san can get out for a while and enjoy the sunlight."

With everyone in agreement, they headed to the Sawada home to gather the others and some food.

The arrived at the park only an hour later, the former arcobaleno reveling in the fact that they had their original adult bodies back.

The celebration lasted well into the evening and as they all fell asleep under the stars, he felt warmer inside than he had in years. So, of course it stood to garner that it would all come crashing down the next morning.

Magnus sighed as he slipped away from the Namimori Institute, into the cool morning air.

They'd arrived just in time for the meeting with the head of it, a young woman by the name of Hibari Hisoka.

She was stern with cold steel eyes and a voice that could cut diamonds, but she was efficient and they'd finished the meeting and the new proposals in short order, before being asked to stay a few days to observe the institute. They'd agreed eager to see the differences between their home and hers, but he couldn't help but think that a certain raven haired shadowhunter would've down a better job. His love had had a presence that commanded respect for all that he was shy, and while Isabelle had a similar aura, hers wasn't as strong. People tended to look at her differently due to her gender and rather subtle manipulation techniques whereas her brother was a bit more blunt.

Still, she was an amazing leader. One he would gladly continue to follow...at least until he found his shadow hunter.

He smiled slightly.

He had once entertained the idea of bringing his Alexander to JApan, the younger man's fascination with the cultures of the world one of the many facets of his personality he hid behind his snark, but after everything, they'd never gotten a chance. He wondered about his reaction, how those sky blue hues would light up in awe and excitement. It all left him feeling both warm and bereft at the same time.

He'd loved Alexander. Had even entertained thoughts of a long-term relationship but the war as well as thoughts of his father had impressed upon him just how brief human life-spans truly were and he knew that losing the nephilim would've broken what was left of his heart.

So he'd let him go.

And in doing so, had still doomed him because he'd been forced out of the only life he'd know into the mundane world. A world he was woefully unprepared for, for all of his brilliance.

A world where he'd vanished.

Where Magnus had still lost him.

It was agonizing.

Approaching the park Lady Hibari had informed them of the day before, he froze jerking himself out of his thoughts.

A group of people, seventeen people strong, were in varying stages of awakening, remnants of a picnic of some sort spread around them.

They froze upon seeing him.

Three guns came up at him while most of the others moved into fighting stances around an innocent looking woman and three children.

Only two didn't move to fight him, a fluffy haired child with bright amber eyes and a violet haired man with his back turned away from him as he continued to pick up the trash around them.

"Who the hell are you, Kora?!" The blond pointing a rifle at him yelled and the inattentive man behind him turned in curiosity.

Magnus' heart stilled in his chest.

Violet hair in the place of raven black, amethyst in the place of sky blue eyes, pale pink lips painted a deep dark purple, there was no mistaking the person in front of him.

He hadn't aged a day, his runes hidden under a skin tight stunt suit that left little to the imagination.

But he was here.

Alive, and still devastatingly beautiful.

The warlock stepped forward, disregarding the hostility of the rest of the group. The object of his attentions faltered back a step confirming his observations.

"Alexander?"

 **TBC...**


	17. Laughing Because it hurts unfinishedCh9

**Chapter Nine**

" _ **Mieczysława…"**_

 _Hazel green eyes shot open, their owner staring blankly into the darkness._

" _Hotaru." She greeted the voice, her eyes bleeding black._

" _ **It's time."**_

 _The young woman hummed softly, mind lucid for the first time in hours._

" _I see."_

" _ **I'm sure."**_ _The voice grew weaker._ _ **"Sleep well. It'll be over by the time you wake."**_

 _A slow burning sensation began in her toes quickly spreading and a wild cackle left her lips. Beside her, her lover jerked awake but she paid him no mind, listening to the mirrored laughter echoing in her mind as her blood boiled her alive._

*/*

It was the laughter that woke him.

A wild, blood chilling sound that set his long neglected red flags alight.

And it was coming from beside him.

Harley.

Acidic hazel green eyes flew open and immediately sought the woman beside them, widening as she was slowly wrapped in shadowy tendrils. Her eyes were open, and coal black as they gazed at the ceiling above them, the haunting sound gaining in pitch and hysteria.

 _Beautiful._

A slow grin crossed the clown prince's lips as he watched her spiral, unaware of what was happening but unbothered all the same.

Madness and chaos were looks his lover wore so naturally that the metamorphosis before him only served to enhance it, her platinum blonde seemingly submerged in the shadows.

" _ **Well,"**_ He blinked at the the deep, masculine voice that left her throat.

That's new.

" _ **Alpha, her transformation has begun."**_ Those dark abyssal pools turned on him. _**"Will you stay? Or will she be forsaken a second time?"**_

His lips curled into a snarl, anger burning as the voice had the _nerve_ to question him.

She was _his mate_.

Her life, her death, her sanity.

It was his.

 _No OnE eLsE's._

Crimson flashed in his own eyes.

" **ShE Is MiNe!"**

He snarls and those bloodstained lips curled into a dangerous smirk.

" _ **Good."**_

The shadows squeezed her tighter, choking off her laugh and she fell silent, staring ahead like a broken doll.

He almost feared she was dead.

He chuckled, and politely, tapped her cheek.

She remained still, then sluggishly turned her head.

Suddenly a wide, vapid smile crossed her lips, needle thin fangs gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the bedroom window.

"Catch me _**if you can**_." She purred then she was gone.

A bark of laughter left him, his own eyes burning their alpha red, and he slipped from the window.


	18. Alec as Skull Pt3

**Chapter Three**

" _Alexander?"_

He had dreaded and longed for this moment for over two decades, his warlock never far from his thoughts but-

But he'd never expected it would actually happen.

Nor did he expect it to hurt so much.

He looked almost exactly the same, glamoured dark eyes lined in silver glitter, and an extravagant silver and blue shirt over skin tight black slacks. His hair was spiked up and tipped in silver as well, his neck draped with numerous necklaces.

He was gorgeous.

He was staring directly at him, eyes wide and longing and it _hurt_.

He'd loved Magnus, more than he'd ever loved anyone, and despite knowing it was his own fault, he'd never truly gotten over the man leaving him. Everything in him had railed against him ever being with another, the mere thought turning his stomach.

And now, he was here.

Magnus was here and he was stepping forward, disregarding the weapons pointed at him.

Alec dropping his facade for once, bolted.

"Alexander!"

He ran faster.

 ***/***

Reborn was a very possessive man.

It was a well known fact in the mafia that he was possessive over people _and_ things he considered his, and the world knew that the arcobaleno were _his_.

 _Skull_ was _his._

The younger man had been his lackey since joining the mafia, and while he knew the kid wasn't terribly weak, he _was_ the weakest amongst the arcobaleno and they had no problem treating him as such.

So who was this man to scare off _his_ lackey?

This man who knew Skull's real name.

His student stepped forward, amber eyes warm as he addressed the stranger who looked as if he were about to run after the stuntman.

"Excuse me," The man glanced at them. "Who are you?"

Straightening, he smiled wearily at them. "I apologize. My name is Magnus. Magnus Bane. Alexander is an old friend of mine, I haven't seen him in over two decades."

Reborn glared at him. "Then why is the Lackey running from you?"

Magnus looked offended by his words. "L-lackey?! Of all the things-" He glared at the hitman, who could've sworn his eyes flashed for a moment. Before they could continue, someone called out Magnus' name.

They turned as a group, to find four others approaching them.

Two women, one brunette, the other a redhead, and two men, one a blonde and one a brunette.

They paused as they saw the weapons pointed at the man, shifting into fighting stances.

"Everything alright here?" The blonde asked tensely, blue eyes cold and Magnus smiled tersely.

"I found Alexander." The newcomers turned to him. "Where is he?"

"He...he ran from me."

Tsuna cut off there response. "Would you all like to join us for breakfast? Perhaps you can speak to Skull there."

One of the women, the brunette, frowned. "Skull?"

"Alexander."

"Dame-Tsuna," Reborn growled but his student shook his head and tapped his temple lightly.

Of course, that damned intuition.

He sighed and signalled for everyone to drop their weapons. Dialing a number on his phone, he scowled.

"Lackey, get here."

There was a bit of hesitation on the other end of the line. "Hai, senpai."

He waited with a scowl on his face, dark eyes glaring death at the newcomers. The sound of a motorcycle broke the silence between their groups and his heart clenched when he saw that his lackey was wearing his helmet.

The helmet that had been his security blanket when they'd met. He, like the other arcobaleno knew that the helmet was their youngest way of hiding himself, protecting himself by making sure that no one could see his expressions and hurt him. His disapproval of the strangers grew stronger.

Or it did until Skull jumped off of his bike and tackled the brunette woman to the ground.

"Izzy." She stiffened, then smiled brightly, her eyes wet.

"Hey, Big bro."He hugged her tighter and Reborn could see his lackey's body trembling.

The blonde man hauled them to their feet and pulled them both into a hug.

"Parabatai." His hands went to Skull's helmet and to everyone's surprise, he didn't resist it when it was pulled away from him. A gentle hand tugged his lip chain, then traced his tattoo, ending one his bright violet hair.

"Purple hair _and_ eyes. Mom is gonna flip."

Skull chuckled. "Probably. Especially when she learns its natural now."

Reborn's patience snapped and he raised his gun. _"Lackey."_

The stuntman stilled and turned. "H-hey Reborn-senpai."

"Who are these people?"

"Remember that one mission in Italia when we were attacked by that really rude nun who tried to eat us?"

All of the arcobaleno nodded.

"Remember how I said there are people that normally take care of those things?"

Another nod.

"These are those people. My sister, Isabelle or Izzy. Her friends Clary and Simon, and my brother Jace. And M-Magnus already introduced himself."

"You haven't aged a day." Magnus whispered and Skull flinched.

"Didn't you know?"

Their eyebrows rose, almost as one. "I am the Immortal Stuntman Skull. The Man Death Hates...unless you're Byakuran."

Reborn rolled his eyes and shot at the cloud who grinned unrepentantly. "Senpai," He protested. "It's true! My flames propagate my cells continuously allowing me to live far longer than anyone here. L-Luce-" -the arcobaleno flinched- "explained it to me before the mission."

"So all those times we thought you barely escaped being killed on missions, you actually were?" Fon asked carefully, but all the arcobaleno could hear the rage in his voice.

Skull chuckled nervously, while his siblings' eyes widened.

"Died?! Alexander Gideon Lightwood!" Izzy snapped and her brother rolled his eyes.

"Hai. I never lied about being immortal, you all just chose not to believe me." He shrugged. "Not like Reborn-senpai shoots blanks. I assumed you all knew. Byakuran was the only one who has ever managed to kill me."

Reborn glared at him, dark eyes gleaming with guilt even as he tried to hide it and from the corner of his eye, he saw Magnus' glamour waver.

"Alexander, I-"

Skull turned to his former lover, lips curling into such a sad smile that all of the arcobaleno stilled.

"So what are you all doing here?"

Fon's nephew stepped forward. "My parents invited them, carnivore. _Hahui_ is the head of the Namimori institute. The entire Lightwood family were invited."

"Fon, you-" His friend smiled enigmatically and bared his wrist the 'Calm' rune stark against his light tan.

The younger Hibari merely glared and he rolled his eyes once more, then turned to Nana.

"Maman, would it be okay if _mi famiglia_ come over?"

The woman beamed. "Of course!"

He nodded and turned to leave. "Great! I'm gonna go and do things! See you all later."

"Lackey," Reborn's voice stopped him, cold but strong.

"Hai?"

"Don't run."

He stiffened then continued to walk away heart pounding in his chest.

"Wouldn't do me any good if I did."

 **TBC…**


End file.
